One of My Company
by LadyWallace
Summary: 'Why are you doing this? For me? Why Me' 'Because you are one of my company, Master Baggins,' Thorin replied. 'A brother like the rest.' Thorin and Bilbo get captured, things go bad, Thorin makes a decision Bilbo doesn't agree with. Rated for torture/angst NOT SLASH!
1. Chapter 1

**New longer story for you all here. This one is kind of AU (movie verse) because it's set after the fight with Azog, and sometime before Desolation of Smaug starts by my reckoning, but Gandalf has left them already (mainly because I can't write Gandalf, so I had to get rid of him, sorry) So Thorin and Bilbo's relationship is more settled... or so Bilbo thinks. **

**Warnings: Violence, torture, not heavy gore, at least not yet, but I'll warn you if something changes. Lots of angst. Thorin is a jerk in the first few chapters until you find out what's eating him. Bilbo is sassy. **

**Also, this is NOT Bagginshield. I don't write it and I don't read it or any slash for that matter. This is just a strong Bilbo/Thorin friendship story with a brotherly platonic bond. **

**And no I don't own the characters, they belong to Pro. Tolkien **

**And now that that's out of the way, please enjoy and review if you are inclined :)**

_Chapter One_

Bilbo sighed as he bent to pick up firewood. He was so tired, and just wanted a real bed to lay down in, if that wouldn't be too much to ask. He was tired of bedrolls and though the stews Bomber made for them were good, he wished for Shire food; pies, cakes, a good cheese, and a nice large tankard of the Green Dragon's best and darkest ale. He nearly whimpered at the thought as he bent to pick up another log and winced as his back protested the movement.

It had only been days since they had fought off the orcs on the cliff's edge, and he had been battered a bit in the fight when he had run to defend Thorin from that Pale Orc, Azog. It had been completely reckless, and would have surprised him if he had been thinking at the time. Perhaps that surprised him more. He hadn't been doing nearly enough thinking lately—well, maybe that was a good thing.

And then there had been Thorin's gratitude, which he had certainly not been expecting. Yes, he had saved the dwarf's life, but he had never thought Thorin would go so far as to thank him for it. And on top of it all he had embraced him like a real friend! Bilbo supposed that was what Thorin was now. They had certainly grown closer, and he began to feel, hope, that Thorin had finally accepted him as one of his own. In any case, Bilbo had started to feel as if he fit in with the company, and now that he had a bit of action under his belt, he felt more confident in the fact that he could fight alongside the dwarves as a brother in arms and not just the one everyone had to protect. He was rather proud of that.

He was about to head back to camp when he caught a slight movement out of the corner of his eye and turned to see a figure between the trees. Instantly on the alert, he shifted the wood in his arms so he could put his hand on the hilt of his sword and lift the blade slightly. But it was not glowing blue, so it couldn't be an enemy. Curious, he stepped forward on light feet to see who was there.

What he found was Thorin Oakenshield, standing in a clearing alone, his head bowed and his hands clasped behind him. Bilbo frowned and stepped forward, stepping on a stick and causing Thorin to turn around with a jerk that made him wince. He was still recovering from the injuries he had sustained fighting Azog.

"What are you doing here?" the dwarf asked, not as hostilely as he might once have, but not very friendly either.

Bilbo motioned to the wood in his arms. "Collecting firewood. Then I saw you out here alone. Is everything alright?"

Thorin looked at the hobbit. "Just trying to seek some solitude, Master Baggins."

"Oh," Bilbo said, unsure what else to say. "I'm sorry to interrupt you."

"It's quite all right, Master Baggins," Thorin said tiredly with an air of annoyance in his voice. "I should know better than to try and seek solitude with so many around."

He began to walk off, when Bilbo started forward, calling after him. "Thorin, if…if you ever need to talk, I'll listen."

He turned around, a wry chuckle escaping past his lips. "Talk? I have nothing to talk about, Master Hobbit, and if I did, what makes you think it would be you I would go to?"

Bilbo felt indignant anger flow through his veins. He had the sudden urge to throw his armload of wood at the arrogant dwarf king, and only barely stopped himself from doing just that. "Oh, sorry, I just thought that since we're friends now, you might like to share some things with me. Problems and things like that. That's what friends do, you know, or at least that's what hobbits do. Or maybe we aren't friends, is that it? Even after I saved your life, and you practically told me I was one of your company. But I don't know much about dwarfish customs; perhaps those things don't mean anything to you."

Thorin had the grace to look rebuffed, though his fists clenched at his sides. "Friends also know when to let the other alone, Master Baggins. Something you may attempt to learn."

Bilbo stared at him with an open mouth, trying to think of something scathing. He threw the wood down and strode after the retreating dwarf king.

"You think I need to learn manners? Well, let me tell you something, Master Oakenshield, you are one of the rudest people I have ever met! Not only do you continually push your comrades past their limits by driving everyone day in day out to unspeakable distances, but you never listen to anyone's judgment—it's no wonder Gandalf continues to leave us—and you are infernally rude to everyone, even your friends and family! I may not be either in your perspective, but I did save your life and I think I should get some sort of credit for it!"

"You mean to tell me you only did it for the fame?" Thorin snarled over his shoulder.

"No!" Bilbo shouted, stamping a foot on the ground. "I did it because I care about you, you bloody fool! Because _I_ count you as a friend, even if those feelings are not returned!"

Thorin suddenly spun around and clamped a hand over Bilbo's mouth. The hobbit grunted in indignation, reaching up to pry the large hand from his face, but Thorin shoved him hard against a tree and pressed a finger to his lips with a glare that instantly made Bilbo quiet down and stop struggling. Once Thorin was certain Bilbo wasn't going to talk, he let the hobbit go and turned around, drawing his sword as quietly as possible. Bilbo stood behind him, his hand on the hilt of his own sword and tried to listen and see what Thorin had heard. The dwarf remained still, only his eyes moving as they traveled over the trees, darting here and there. Bilbo jumped as he thought he saw a movement to his left and yanked the sword from its sheath. Thorin turned to glare at him from the grating noise, but he suddenly jerked with a slight frown.

"Thorin?" Bilbo asked tentatively.

The dwarf staggered slightly and then his eyes rolled up in his head.

"Thorin!" Bilbo cried before he felt something sting his neck. He clapped a hand to the spot and found a little dart there, pulling it out with a wince. He cast it aside, but was already feeling the effects of the drug, and he fell to his knees and collapsed next to Thorin, everything going fuzzy. The last thing he saw was an ugly face staring at him as someone grabbed his arms and then he was completely out.

**Yes, evil cliff hanger. And yeah, Thorin's a jerk in this chapter. Hope it wasn't too terrible.**

**I've already got about a third of the story written, but I really only get time to write and edit on the weekends, so I will try to post the next chapter saturday or sunday. If I get time during the week, I might post more.**


	2. Chapter 2

**This is another short chapter, sorry, I promise the next chapter will get into the story more. I have no idea whether I'm writing Azog right either, my orcs always seem to be smarter than they should be lol. ;) I hope everyone is enjoying this anyway. Thanks to all who have reviewed, faved, and followed already. Also, while this chapter is all from Bilbo's POV again, some of this story/chapters will be from Thorin's but you'll know what's what, I promise :) **

Chapter Two

Bilbo awoke slowly as if swimming through murky water. He tried to pull his eyes open, but they felt so heavy. His mouth tasted awful and so dry. His stomach roiled as he shifted slightly, wondering why he couldn't move. He finally managed to get his eyes open and wished he hadn't. The world was moving around and swirling at the edges and that coupled with the nausea he was already feeling, made his stomach heave and he rolled over onto one shoulder to throw up. He coughed miserably and gasped for breath, dry heaving once everything that had been in his stomach was gone.

He heard a slight moan from behind him and tried to roll over, but noticed for the first time that his hands were bound behind him and he couldn't quite get over his arms in his weakened state.

"Bilbo?" came a groggy voice and he recognized it as Thorin's. He finally managed to turn over with a great effort and saw the dwarf lying on his side, also bound, and blinking owlishly at the hobbit.

"I'm here," Bilbo stated somewhat sarcastically, still not forgetting their conversation before they had been drugged.

"Are—are you all right?" Thorin asked, seeming to find speaking difficult with the effects of the drug.

"What do you think?" Bilbo asked irritably, feeling a world better after vomiting, though he wasn't entirely sure if he was finished with that either. "Where are we?"

"I don't know," Thorin replied. "I just woke up."

"Well, let's see if we can get loose before whoever captured us comes back." Bilbo wriggled slightly. "Turn around and we'll see if we can untie each other's hands."

"Bilbo," Thorin said, and Bilbo realized though his muddled brain, that this was the second time Thorin had called him by his real name in as many minutes. Probably trying to make up for being an arrogant idiot earlier.

"I'm sorry," Thorin continued, causing Bilbo even more surprise. "About what I said before, I didn't—"

"Oh, never mind now," Bilbo said impatiently. "We can talk more when we get free."

But they never got the chance. Footsteps were heard coming toward them and they turned to see their captor; Thorin with a glare to rival all glares and Bilbo with a look he hoped could at least pass for a glare. It wavered a bit when he saw their captor was an orc.

"You're awake," he stated with satisfaction. "I was afraid the men had administered too much of the potion."

"Untie us now," Thorin snarled but the orc ignored him.

"Finding Thorin Oakenshield separated from his company with only a halfling for protection was fortune indeed," the orc smiled and it wasn't pleasant. He reached over and grabbed Bilbo under the chin, forcing his face up to study him closely. "This halfling, however, seems braver than most. He actually managed to kill some of our kind. You will pay for that greatly, I assure you." He dropped him back down with a chuckle and buried a boot in Bilbo's stomach, causing him to curl over and nearly vomit again. The orc then turned his attention to Thorin and grabbed a handful of his dark hair, hauling him up as the dwarf growled and snarled in pain and defiance. "You on the other hand, Oakenshield—I don't know what is planned for you, but I can assure you it will be anything but pleasant. And whatever it is, you'll get to see the halfling suffer first."

Thorin spat something in dwarvish and the orc laughed, throwing him back to the ground.

"You won't have to wait too long. Azog will be back very soon."

Bilbo felt a jolt of fear in his stomach at the mention of the Pale Orc and he saw Thorin stiffen as well. So soon after they had defeated him, after Bilbo had defied him, and he orc had been deprived of his prize. Bilbo couldn't help trembling as he watched Thorin lay back with a look of deep regret, and maybe a little fear in his own face. That did not make Bilbo feel any better.

"Thorin, what are we going to do?" he asked, his voice wavering.

Thorin looked up at the sky, watching as the sun set. "I don't know, Master Hobbit. I don't know."

* * *

_It seemed hours_ they stayed there, both trying to work on their bindings, but their hands were so numb from loss of circulation and when they fidgeted too much one of the orcs would come over and kick them into submission. Bilbo finally gave up and just lay on his side, exhausted, closing his eyes in the hopes that he might get a little rest. He didn't think he'd be getting much of that after Azog came.

Thorin shifted uncomfortably, and Bilbo knew it was hard for him to be so helpless. He knew it was demeaning for a king to be trussed up like a pig ready for slaughter—he shuddered at that thought. No, it was probably best not to think of that.

"I'm sorry this happened," he said after a while and Thorin opened his eyes to look at the hobbit.

"It's not your fault," the dwarf said.

"I could have killed him when I had the chance."

Thorin actually laughed. "And do what I could not? No, Master Baggins, you are only a hobbit and a burglar. I thank you for saving my life, I do not doubt your bravery, but you are no match for Azog the Defiler. He has killed many a better warrior than you."

Bilbo felt a prickle to his pride again and glared at the dwarf indignantly. "Well, you hardly got a hit in yourself. He didn't really give you the chance."

Thorin glowered. "Do not try me right now, halfling, I am in no mood. This is what got us into trouble in the first place. If we had not been arguing I might have been able to detect the orcs before they were upon us."

"So it is my fault," Bilbo said indignantly. "I thought you said it wasn't."

Thorin groaned in exasperation. "Mahal, Bilbo, would you just…" He was stopped by a sharp kick to his back that knocked the wind out of him.

"Would you two shut up?" the orc snarled, kicking Bilbo too for good measure. "Azog is riding in now, and you'll be introduced to him in a moment." He grinned nastily. "Best be good, otherwise it might go worse for you."

Thorin and Bilbo were instantly silent but the hobbit still glared at the dwarf king, not knowing what had gotten into him lately. He had thought things had changed after the battle with Azog, but he must have been wrong. It had been a good few days while he sat with Thorin and kept him company while his wounds healed enough for them to travel again, smoking together and sharing stories, but that was over now. And it seemed they wouldn't get much of a chance to repair their friendship; they were most likely to die together at the hands of their greatest enemy before dawn.

"Listen to me, Master Baggins, and do not try and interrupt," Thorin told him firmly and Bilbo looked at him again, broken from his regretful thoughts. "Let me do the talking. Do not provoke him, whatever you do. He will not be happy that you intervened with my execution, but you are not trained to withstand torture, so you must not let him touch you."

"I can withstand torture," Bilbo replied indignantly. "Do you forget so easily when I protected Kili from the orcs when he was injured?"*****

Thorin nearly smiled in a pitying fashion. "That, Master Hobbit, was a mere beating. Azog is capable of unspeakable torments that you in your innocence have never even heard the likes of. He will break you faster than a twig and he will not stop there, not if you scream, beg, or plead, do you understand? He is not a troll; there will be no talking our way out of this one."

Bilbo frowned, realizing what Thorin meant. "Thorin, you should not be the only one to suffer, I will not allow you to take all the pain for me."  
Thorin shut his eyes and groaned. "Bilbo, would you please…"  
"Ah, Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain."

They both froze and Thorin struggled around to see his enemy, but the metal claw that was one of Azog's hands swept down and hooked into his tunic, digging into the skin beneath as he drew the dwarf up off his feet. Thorin struggled in the undignified position, growling obscenities in Khuzdul. Bilbo held his breath in terror as the Pale Orc laughed deep in his throat, and then threw Thorin back onto the ground with a heavy thud.

"The men shall be rewarded greatly for bringing you to me. And what's this? The halfling that dared get in front of my man when he was to kill Oakenshield?" Bilbo involuntarily shrank back toward Thorin, even as he fought to steel himself. Damn Thorin's words earlier. He didn't have to tell him just how bad it was going to be. He would have rather left it to his imagination.

"I might have given you the mercy of a quick death before, Oakenshield," the Pale Orc continued. "But now, I have time. Plenty of time. And I will use it wisely." He reached down to press his claw under Thorin's chin, raising the dwarf's face, so he could look up at him. "You will know more pain than you can ever imagine. And when I'm done, I will cut off your head just like I did your grandfather, and give it to your companions."

Thorin glared defiantly at him, and Bilbo was impressed with his bravery. The dwarf did not even tremble.

"But first," Azog said with a dark chuckle as he released Thorin from his grasp and turned to the hobbit. "I will enjoy seeing you watch the halfling suffer."

And with that, he reached down and hooked Bilbo by the front of his shirt, hauling him into the air with a startled yelp, his legs kicking, even though they were tied together. "And rest assured, his pain will be very great."

**Yeah, I know another evil cliff-hanger *not really* sorry. I'll try to post the third chapter up tomorrow since I may not have time during the week. let me know what you think so far!**

*** This is from my other story "The Courage of Hobbits" read it if you want (hint, hint) but it's not necessary, though I kind of wrote this one as a spin-off of that one.**


	3. Chapter 3

**As promised, here's the next chapter. I decided to be nice and not make you wait until next weekend :) Hope you enjoy!**

**Warning: whumping starts here. (And also, this changes between Thorin and Bilbo's POV)**

Chapter Three

"No."

It was not a shout, it was a deliberate, flat protest. Thorin knew pleading wouldn't stop Azog, but this might. He hoped it would. It had to. He tried to keep his face straight even as he watched Bilbo dangle above the ground, trying to wriggle enough to free himself of the orc's grip.

Azog turned to Thorin, an amused look on his face. "Do not play games, Oakenshield. I know what you're trying to do. It won't work." He nodded to two of his orcs. "Make sure the king has a good seat to watch the entertainment."

Thorin growled and had to fight against every fiber of his being not to struggle in the orcs' grasp. "No, Azog. You might want to listen. The halfling knows nothing of your techniques in tormenting prisoners. If you start with him, he will not cower as I know you want him to. He is an idiot and must be shown by example. Start with me and then once he sees what will happen to him, it will be much more enjoyable for you to torment him."

"No, Thorin!" Bilbo protested, but before even Azog could punish him for it, Thorin cut in.

"Shut your mouth, halfling! Would you shame me in front of my enemies?" He turned to Azog. "You see how he tries me? I would be glad if you would beat a little humility into him. But not yet. Bide your time." It hurt him to say those things to the hobbit who was so much braver than he had ever given him credit for. He knew Bilbo would gladly sacrifice himself for the dwarf—idiot indeed, but a brave idiot. But he couldn't let him do that. For as brave as Bilbo was, he was just not a strong as a dwarf, and he would never last the torments the orcs would meet out, and well, Thorin didn't want to admit it even to himself, but he couldn't lose the halfling.

_Not like Frerin,_ he thought silently before he pushed the thought away, knowing he needed to focus. He quickly turned away from Bilbo's hurt expression and focused on Azog.

The orc seemed to be contemplating Thorin's proposition. He looked between the dwarf king and the hobbit and finally nodded, throwing Bilbo back to the ground. Thorin refrained from sighing in relief.

"Bring them both, we will start with Oakenshield as he wishes." He smirked into Thorin's face, gripping his chin tightly. "If I find out you have played a trick on me I will force you to hurt the halfling yourself."

"It's no trick," Bilbo said bitterly as he was hauled upright and his legs untied. "The great Thorin Oakenshield could never allow himself to feel compassion for anyone."

Thorin flinched at the words as Azog chuckled, but ignored them. He could repair things with Bilbo later. Right now he just had to make sure he kept him from being tortured by the orcs, and if that involved being on the receiving end, then so be it.

* * *

_Bilbo watched as they_ tied Thorin so that he was suspended by his wrists from a tree branch. He hated to admit how much Thorin's biting words had hurt him, but they did. Maybe Thorin had just said them to keep him safe, but it was just as likely he really thought of Bilbo as an ignorant idiot who couldn't take care of himself. He didn't know what he had done since the fight that had made Thorin almost angrier at him than he was when they first met, but he knew he had to get to the bottom of it soon or he might start enjoying watching the dwarf's torture.

_That's certainly the last time I save anyone's life_, he thought darkly. He would show Thorin. Azog wouldn't keep away from him for long and when he did start with him, he would withstand the torture better than Thorin. Or at least he would try his confounded best.

And then he saw what they had in store for Thorin and he hated to admit that he was actually having second thoughts about his previous pledge of bravery.

"Knives first," Azog said and chuckled darkly as one of the orcs, obviously the head interrogator, who wore a bloodstained leather apron that made Bilbo gulp, turned to Thorin with a rusty-looking blade. He first slit the front of Thorin's tunic and ripped it open to expose his skin. Thorin glared at him but only his jaw tightened when the knife slid over his collarbone, leaving a thin red line there. Bilbo watched in mesmerized horror as several more cuts appeared on Thorin's torso, but he never did more than tense. Azog seemed to tire of this, and spoke in the black speech to the torturer who stopped and went to fetch something else. Bilbo watched as he thrust the knife into a brazier and pulled it out a few minutes later, glowing red.

Bilbo winced himself when the knife was pressed against Thorin's side right under the ribs. This time the action did elicit a grunt of pain from the dwarf and forced him to bite his lip to keep any other noises from escaping.

Another instrument was pulled from the brazier, this one looking like some kind of tongs, and it was fixed around Thorin's upper arm near his shoulder, burning into his skin. Thorin groaned and jerked slightly in his bindings. The brands were applied several more times, and though Bilbo saw that Thorin's resolve was weakening and his knees were starting to shake slightly, the dwarf still did not scream. He instantly regretted everything he had earlier said about wanting to watch Thorin be tortured. Despite what the dwarf had said to him, he was Bilbo's friend and the hobbit didn't want to see him hurt, no matter if he really did think of him as a naive idiot or not.

Azog stepped toward Thorin and grabbed his chin, forcing his face up. He brushed his clawed hand over the burns on Thorin's torso, and though the dwarf winced, he still said nothing. Azog sneered.

"You might not scream now, but you will later. How do you think your halfling would withstand this? Would he scream?"

Thorin smiled at the orc. "He might be surprised to find it's as bad as it is. I did my best to give him no warning of it."

Azog studied the dwarf, then switched his grip so that he was holding his face still with his claw hand. He reached out and called for the knife again. It was placed in his hand and he brought it up to Thorin's face, pressing it into his cheek. He drug it down, but instead of cutting him, began to scrape away at Thorin's beard. The dwarf instantly fought, growling, but Azog brought a knee to his stomach and stopped him for a few moments while he cruelly shaved the dwarf's beard off in patches, leaving some and just cutting off bits here and there to make the action even more demeaning. Bilbo watched in shocked silence. He knew the dwarves were very specific about their beards and knew this must be a particular insult. Azog smiled as he finished and seemed to enjoy Thorin's look of utter hatred.

"When I'm done with you, Thorin, I will cut your head off like I did your grandfather and show it to your nephews. And then I'll kill them too, and wipe out your entire filthy line." He traced the knife down Thorin's neck to his shoulder and then pressed in into the flesh under his collarbone. Thorin gritted his teeth, and this time actually did cry out as Azog scraped bone before pulling the knife back out as Thorin gasped.

The pale orc stepped away and called to the guards. "Put them in the cage so they can't escape in the night." He then strode back over to Bilbo and the hobbit shifted nervously as the orc reached down to draw him up.

"Oakenshield pretends to be brave, but I will make him scream," he said. "And I will have him begging on his knees in front of me before I'm done. And if I have to use you to do that, I will not hesitate. He might think he's protected you for now, but he is wrong." His chuckle sent a shiver up Bilbo's spine and he looked over quickly to make sure Thorin hadn't heard that but he seemed not to have. They were both hustled to a small cage that was barely big enough to fit both of them and they sat scrunched, shoulders pressed together and knees almost pulled to their chests.

When the orcs left them, Bilbo looked over to Thorin who was drawing his torn tunic around his chest to hide his wounds, glancing over at Bilbo as he did so with a bit of shame on his face.

"Let me see," the hobbit said.

Thorin shook his head. "There's no point in it, we can't clean them and they are hardly bad at all. I have lived through much worse, Master Baggins."

Bilbo humphed, unconvinced. "That one in your shoulder is still bleeding."

Thorin's hand went unconsciously to his shoulder before he pulled it back. "Bilbo, please, just leave me alone."  
Bilbo looked at Thorin, seeing the bloodstained tunic and the horribly shaved beard. Azog hadn't cared whether he cut Thorin in the process and several of the pink patches had nicks that had bled and matted what little of the beard was left. He sighed and sat back.

"You didn't have to do that, you know," he said.

Thorin turned to him, his eyes flashing. "Do not ever mention this to me again, do you understand? And do not make my sacrifice a vain one. If you do, then you really will be an idiot."

Bilbo couldn't help but smile a bit at that _really will be._ "You mean you didn't think I was an idiot before?" he asked snarkily.

He thought he saw a very brief moment where Thorin started to smile before he smothered it in a growl. "Go to sleep, Master Baggins."

"Sleep," Bilbo said dryly.

Neither of them slept a wink that night.


	4. Chapter 4

**Okay, well, I hope no one wants to kill me after reading this chapter. Sorry in a****dvance? *hides* So yeah, there's angst in this chapter, just thought I'd warn you and scare you all so that you'll probably think it's worse than it is heheh ;) Hope you enjoy! Longer chapter than the others for your patient wait.**

Chapter Four

Bilbo almost dozed off just before dawn, his face pressed uncomfortably against the bars of the cage, but then he was jerked into full awareness again as the first light of day shone over the trees and several orcs came to fetch them.

"Waky waky," one said with a nasty grin, reaching into the cage and kicking the captives, even though they were both wide-awake. Thorin jerked away from one and tried to stand on his own, but was shoved so violently he fell to his knees before he picked himself up, receiving an undignified kick to the backside. Bilbo decided to allow the orcs to drag him out themselves, not wanting to cause problems.

They were dragged back to the center of the camp where Azog was eating a roast rabbit right off the spit for his breakfast. Bilbo's stomach growled, reminding him for the first time since their capture that he hadn't eaten for over twelve hours. He was starving! And his thirst was even worse. He couldn't stop his stomach from growling and that elicited laughs from the orcs. Azog seemed amused as he tossed the carcass aside and belched.

"Bring them some orc draught. They'll need something to keep them going if we want them to last at all," the pale orc said and one orc brought over two tankards and handed them to the prisoners. Bilbo took his and just the smell alone made him want to retch; the feeling was even worse due to his empty stomach. He started to hand it back, but the orc shoved it back toward him.

"Drink it, or I'll force it down your throat," he said and Bilbo exchanged a pleading look with Thorin who returned it with a glare before he put the tankard against his own lips, taking a big gulp of the foul brew. Bilbo was unconvinced by the chocking swallow he made and how his face turned a slightly peaked shade, but he decided it couldn't be too bad, so he took a large swallow as well.

He nearly spit it out then, but forced himself to allow the horrible stuff to slide down his throat and closed his eyes as he felt it settle in his stomach. He tried to bring the tankard to his lips again but lost it and turned to retch on the ground, his stomach rejecting the mixture. The orcs found this particularly entertaining and he hauled himself to his feet again, wiping his mouth with one hand as he cast a glance at Thorin who was giving him a pitying look, but looked like he wanted to join Bilbo in the vomiting.

Azog smiled as he came over to the two prisoners and took the tankard Bilbo had dropped on the ground. "You will learn not to waste the orc drought when it is the only thing I allow you to consume," he said in a low, threatening voice. Bilbo wanted to retort, but decided against it. It would solve no problems.

"Now, I have spent a long time considering what form the entertainment should take today. And I think I've finally found something you can both participate in." Bilbo watched Thorin tense and realized with growing apprehension that Azog noted it too from the small smile that flicked across his pale lips. He jerked his head toward Thorin and motioned to the tree he had been tied to the night before.

"Tie him like you did before and bring me the lash."

Bilbo was drug over to the tree with Thorin and the dwarf was divested of his ruined tunic, allowing Bilbo to see all his wounds up close and he did not like what he saw either. The cuts were scabbed over mostly, but the wound in his shoulder was still bleeding sluggishly from the rough treatment and the burns looked weepy and painful. He was just contemplating the possibility of infection when Azog came up behind him with a whip in his hand.

"You see I show no difference whether you are king or not, Oakenshield. You shall be whipped like a common criminal." He turned to Bilbo and thrust the lash into his hand. "And you, halfling, will do the work."  
"Me?" Bilbo yelped, throwing the whip on the ground. "No!"

Azog's hand was on his throat and his feet were leaving the ground. He grasped the huge hand and fought for breath. "You will do it, or you shall take his place."

Bilbo put on a defiant air and Azog squeezed harder, making him choke. The orc then dropped him and Bilbo gasped, rubbing his neck. Azog put the whip into his palm again and held his hand over the hobbit's to keep it there. "Flog Oakenshield now, halfling."

Bilbo pulled himself to his feet, trying to decide what to do. Could he really whip Thorin? He didn't want to; he would certainly rather take a beating himself, but the thought of Thorin's sure wrath if he did so almost frightened him more.

"Do it, halfling," but this time the scathing words didn't come from Azog, but from Thorin himself. "Can you not even show a little self respect? Do not cower away from this; are you afraid to hit me? Afraid of what I'll do to you? I'd think you more a man if you tore the skin from my back than the cringing coward you are."  
Bilbo tightened his grip on the whip, anger flowing through him. Azog smiled and shoved him behind Thorin, facing his broad back. Thorin turned his head half around and sneered, "Do it, Halfling, what are you waiting for? Get it over with!"

Bilbo steeled himself and took the first swing. Unfortunately, he had never used a whip before and his first attempt was…well, rather embarrassing. There was no mark on Thorin's back at all, but his cheek stung and when he put his hand to it he felt blood. Azog laughed along with all the other orcs.

"Perhaps I shall show you how it's done, little one," he said mockingly, reaching out for the whip.

"No, I can do it," Bilbo snarled, even more angry now. He held the whip farther back and cracked it forward. This time it did connect with Thorin's back and a red welt appeared, startling him slightly. Thorin tuned around again and growled, "Is that all you have in that tiny arm of yours? You didn't even break the skin. You're worthless, Master Hobbit, just as I always thought you were. A worthless homebody who would rather be choosing a new type of tea at market than picking up a sword to defend his comrades…"

He was cut off as Bilbo hit him again, this time harder. Much harder. He was so angry at what Thorin was saying to him, that he just let fly, putting everything behind it. This one bit deep and blood trickled from the mark across Thorin's shoulders and down his back.

"Much better," Azog said approvingly. "Keep going."

"Worthless baggage. I told you you had no place with my kind," Thorin snarled at him and Bilbo broke, setting his teeth in a snarl and whipping Thorin like he actually meant it, and at that moment, he would admit truthfully that he really wanted to do it too. Thorin had no right to say he would not take up a sword to defend his comrades, his friends! He had had enough of being treated so poorly after he had saved that ungrateful bastard's life. Thorin had told him he was one of them, and then he had turned around out of the blue and went back to calling him worthless. Well, he would show his royal highness worthless. He was done trying to verbally argue, he was just going to see how physical hurts changed things. That was how dwarves did it, wasn't it? Not wordsmiths these dwarves. Maybe a little violence would make Thorin understand how angry he was.

His wild lashing wasn't expert by any means. Most of the blows landed on Thorin but some still came back to lash him too, and by the time he was nearing the end, he had more bloody spots on his right ear and his neck and several on his upper arms. But he didn't stop until Azog told him to, and when he lowered the whip after the last blow, he finally realized that his arm was aching and he was breathing and sweating heavily from the exertion. But apart from that, he realized that Thorin was sagging in his bonds, moaning slightly. He hadn't let it register before, but now he remembered that the dwarf had been crying out in pain during the whipping and now his legs looked barely able to support him. Bilbo drew his eyes back to Thorin's broad back and winced, inhaling sharply as he saw the damage done. The damage _he_ had done.

He dropped the whip, his hands shaking as Azog came to stand next to him, putting his hand down on the hobbit's shoulder. Bilbo shied away but the hand clamped down, keeping him in place.

"You did well, halfling. Perhaps you really do hate Oakenshield. Though if that is so, then I don't see why you went to all the trouble and risked my wrath to save his life."

"It was a mistake I will not make again, believe me," Bilbo said, but with not as much conviction as he had been hoping for. His voice wavered and he cleared his throat as Azog finally let go of his shoulder and grabbed the back of Thorin's neck instead, making him flinch and grunt.

"Does it hurt to know the ally you're protecting hates you so much that he would flay the skin from your back as well as any of my own men could?" His dark chuckle made Bilbo feel weak in the knees and wish he could sink down, but he had to stay strong in front of the orcs. Not let them see he cared. But he did. Had he really caused all that blood on Thorin's back?

Azog took out a knife and cut the ropes that tied Thorin to the tree. The dwarf fell with a thump at Bilbo's feet, and just barely fought onto his elbows and knees before Azog grabbed him by the hair and pulled him up to his knees, raising his face so he could look at Bilbo. The hobbit was shocked to see the lines of agony in Thorin's features, even as he fought them off, opening his eyes and meeting Bilbo's. Bilbo expected to see anger, hatred even, but all he saw was…an apology? No, he must have seen it wrong. There was no reason Thorin would be apologizing to him after that.

Azog studied them in their silence and then he reached down and dug his fingers into Thorin's torn back. The dwarf couldn't help his reaction to the sudden pain and arched his back, a cry ripping from his throat. It was still not the scream of agony Azog was looking for, but it was closer than he had been last night. Azog seemed pleased by it and dug deeper, raking his claw up the lash marks, tearing the already torn skin and causing it to bleed even more. Bilbo watched in horror as Thorin's face contorted in agony, his whole body ridged and, finally, as his eyes rolled up in his head and he slumped in the orc's grasp. Azog threw him down and Bilbo couldn't stop himself kneeling beside the dwarf, rolling him onto his side to see if he was still breathing. An orc grabbed him from behind and hauled him back from Thorin. He fought the urge to protest as more grabbed Thorin by his arms and began to drag him along with Bilbo to the cage again. They were thrown in and Bilbo made sure Thorin was on his side and settled his head in his lap to make him as comfortable as possible. Azog looked in at them and smiled mockingly.

"Neither of you are fooling me, halfling. The two of you act as brothers of bond if not blood. You each fight to protect each other by lying to me, but I am not willing to buy it for long."

"I'm afraid you are mistaken," Bilbo said, taking his hand from where it had been resting on Thorin's shoulder, glaring at the orc. "As you saw earlier he thinks I'm worthless."

Azog chuckled but it wasn't humorous. "I grow tired of these games. I will allow them to continue for a while longer, but soon, little one, you shall have to answer for what you did as well. No one gets in the way of my orders to kill someone, especially when that somebody is Thorin Oakenshield. I will take my revenge on your body. The only quandary I have found myself in now, though, is who to kill first? I used to be certain it would be you, halfling, but now," he looked between them with a sickening smirk. "I am not so sure. You amuse me. I might very well keep you around for a while longer." He straightened up. "When he wakes up tonight we'll have some more fun. I'll see you then."

Bilbo glared at his retreating back and then turned back to Thorin with a growing regret settling in his chest. He replaced the hand on his shoulder and as gently as he could, brushed the long hair away from the wounds where it had stuck into the blood of his back. Bilbo winced and was nearly sick as he saw all the blood. He had become quite used to it on this adventure, that was true, but not when he had caused it himself, in the flesh of a friend a…well, indeed, almost a brother like Azog, of all people, had said. Bilbo sighed and plaited Thorin's hair absently to keep it off his back before he realized what he was doing. Braiding a dwarf's hair? That was indeed the job of a brother. He finished the braid though and tucked it to one side as he settled back against the cage wishing he had something to staunch the blood and then reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled, but clean—mostly anyway—handkerchief. He pressed it against the worst of the wounds, feeling Thorin stiffen in his sleep, and once again settled back to close his eyes. He wondered where the others were and what they were doing. Fili and Kili were likely going frantic with their uncle missing. Dwalin would be tearing the forest apart, and Balin, though he would be trying to calm his brother would be just as anxious. Maybe Bofur would be the first to ask after Bilbo, being one of his first real friends on the journey. He wondered if Gandalf was back, and realized he probably wasn't. He had seemed intent on going somewhere very speedily, and had seemed to have no time for them. He had no idea how far they were from their camp and wondered if the company would indeed be too late and only find their corpses, or worse, just their heads. Bilbo grunted wryly; that would be a way to end, surely. At least he would be comforted by the fact that no other hobbit had ever ended his life as such. It would be a story to horrify hobbit children with for years to come. Maybe it would teach them not to go on adventures or make friends with dwarves and wizards.

Bilbo sighed and looked down at Thorin again, his face still creased in pain. He allowed his head to clunk back against the bars of the cage. He didn't want to think about what was in store for them in the future. He didn't think it would bear thinking about.

**Yeah, I'm cruel, I know *evil laugh* Don't worry, I'll have the next chap up tomorrow. Though it's not getting any better any time soon, just so you know. **


	5. Chapter 5

**Well, there's just more pain here. Don't know what else to say about it. This is probably the most whump yet. *hugs Thorin and Bilbo* so sorry guys!**

Chapter Five

Thorin woke to a dull pain pulsing across his back. He shifted slightly, groaning and pressing his face into the ground. But it wasn't the ground. It was warm and softer than it should have been. He levered himself onto an elbow, gritting his teeth against the flare of pain in his back and looked down at a trouser covered knee which had been his pillow and followed it up to a hobbit who was just coming awake and looking down at his companion, something like relief shining in his eyes as he saw him awake.

"Thorin," he said with a small smile, which soon faded as he put a hand on the dwarf's shoulder. "Thorin, I'm… I'm…"

"Bilbo, I'm sorry," Thorin said, beating him to the chase and causing the hobbit to stop and stare at him openmouthed.

"You're sorry?" he finally choked out, sounding, what was this? Sounding indignant? Thorin frowned. He had always known Bilbo—and hobbits in general—was a little strange, but this? Maybe he was feverish.

"Yes, I'm sorry," he repeated, getting annoyed. "Did I not just say that? Will you not accept my apology?"  
"No!" Bilbo cried. "No, and here's why." He held up a hand and touched one finger. "Number one, you said horrible things to me. No one in his right mind would forgive you that, and two, I was the one who whipped you senseless, and you think you need to apologize to _me_?"

Thorin opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again, unable to help the chuckle that escaped him even if it hurt his back. Bilbo looked at him angrily.

"What?" he asked. "What's so funny? Because I don't see anything funny about this situation."

Thorin sobered. "It's not really that it's funny, it's just you are really rather ridiculous at times, Master Baggins. First you accuse me of insulting you, which is what I was apologizing for but you wouldn't let me explain myself on that matter, and then you go and apologize to me for the whipping. Do you not see how strange that all sounds? It's all rather unconventional."

Bilbo stopped, and finally nodded consent. "I do suppose you're right. Very well. I am terribly sorry about you back, I got a little carried away with myself." "As I hoped you would," Thorin said, watching the hobbit's face as he took that in, incredulousness showing there with confusion. Thorin pulled himself up into a sitting position with a grunt. "You see, Master Baggins, it was only my plan to make you angry so you would _want_ to whip me. It was the only way to make it look real, and trust me, it was real enough. If you had not, Azog would have had both of us whipped by one of his men and I doubt we would be having this conversation now if they had. We would have been flogged to the bone, literally." Bilbo shuddered and Thorin reached out to squeeze his shoulder companionably. "I didn't mean anything I said. But unfortunately, I can't make that work any more, now that I let you in on the secret. You'll just have to trust me and do what I say. Continue to follow my lead and I promise I will get you out of this alive and hopefully unscathed."

"I can't allow you to continue to sacrifice yourself for my sake," Bilbo protested, back to square one. Thorin sighed heavily in exasperation.

"We're not doing this again, Bilbo, would you please just let me do this? It is hard enough already what with bearing the brunt of the torture, you don't need to make me feel guilty too, and with your own guilt at that!"

Bilbo clenched his fists and pounded them into his knees. "Why are you doing this, Thorin?" he cried. "Why do you put yourself through this. For me? Why me? I am not so important as all that, am I? You are a king, Thorin, I am just a simple hobbit. A homebody, like you said. I shouldn't even be here. Why sacrifice everything for me?"

Thorin looked him right in the eyes, seeing the mixed emotions there: confusion, a little denial, fear, and uncertainty. "For one, you are here with me, and I would do the same for any other because it is my _duty_ as king and leader," Thorin said simply, making Bilbo glare at him before he continued in a serious voice, "And because you are one of my company, Master Baggins. A brother like the rest. And there is nothing simple about you. I know that now." There was more to it than that. He saw that the hobbit knew that, but Thorin was not going to tell him. Not yet.

"Thorin," Bilbo said. "If I'm going to trust you, I need you to tell me what you're hiding from me. What your real purpose is in all this."  
Thorin sighed. He could not tell him because the purpose was, well, it was something untellable. He couldn't just up and say it, it would sound like less than it really was out loud when the truth of the matter was that it was everything. Thorin's real reason why he feared so much for Bilbo. Why he couldn't lose him. Because he was the only thing that had begun to repair that hole he formerly thought was unrepairable. But he would die before he confided that to the halfling. Instead he shook his head. "There is nothing to tell. I just need to know that I can trust you."

Bilbo looked like he was going to protest, then finally nodded. "You can trust me. I think your raw back can attest to that well enough. And I might be a fool, but I suppose I have no choice but to trust you."

Thorin smiled and winced. "I am glad of that, Master Hobbit. Though it doesn't look like I'm the only one who felt the bite of the whip." His smile broadened as he poked the mark on Bilbo's cheek as the hobbit protested. "You're rather hopeless at all this, aren't you?"

"Oh, well, of course I had prisoner whipping training back in the shire, but I was never really good at it," he replied snarkily and Thorin felt a little better, glad he had his old hobbit back, sass and all.

And then their few moments of peace were broken as the orcs came for them again.

* * *

_Thorin stood beside Bilbo_, trying not to wince from his wounded back. It took a lot of effort to stay upright, let alone to keep from trembling. His back ached and he felt weak in the knees, but he was not about to let himself fall in front of the orcs. No, he kept his head high even though he knew he looked a sight what with the wounds, the flayed back and the poorly shaved beard. Of all the things the latter was the worse. That had taken his dignity with it, and it would not be so easy to heal that wound as the others.

He cast a quick glance over at Bilbo to see how he was handling the situation. He was holding himself well, but then he hadn't been suffered injury yet, either. There was still a frown between his brows and Thorin wondered whether he was the cause. He wished he could tell Bilbo his real anguish, why he was so adamant in protecting the foolish, brave hobbit, but again, he knew he could not. Or, rather that he did not want to. It would not do any good. Bilbo might be sympathetic but he would not understand.

Azog came to stand in front of them, looking them over with a critical eye and Thorin wanted to growl at him to just get on with it. He was done with anticipation, he knew pain was coming, he just wanted to get it over with while he still had the resolve and the strength to deal with it.

"The halfling is looking a little unscathed for my liking," Azog said, watching Thorin closely as he said it. The dwarf kept his face straight, fighting not to give anything away even though he was pleading inside for the orc not to go on.

"Well, Oakenshield, do you think that he has seen enough of our customs to enjoy the benefit of having them performed on his own body?"

Thorin scoffed, trying to lower his heartbeat in fear the orcs would hear it. "You have hardly done anything to me, Azog. I thought better of you. My most painful injuries were given to me by the halfling and he enjoyed it quite a bit. Your men are going soft."  
Bilbo's scowl had darkened, and Thorin pleaded with him not to say anything. _For once in your life, Master Hobbit, please just keep your mouth shut!_ Azog studied Thorin and Bilbo one after the other and then reached forward to grab Bilbo by the front of his shirt.

_No!_ Thorin caught his breath, ready to jump forward though it would only prove Azog correct. But Azog didn't seem to want to harm the hobbit, not yet, he just set him by his side much to the look of confusion on Bilbo's face, keeping a firm hand on the hobbit's shoulder.

"I'll humor you, Oakenshield, since you seem to enjoy pain so much," the Pale Orc said, motioning to his men. "Do what you want with him. Make sure he has nothing to complain about as far as our treatment by the time you're done."

Thorin was grabbed roughly and thrown to the ground. He had only a minute to register the enormity of what was coming before one of the orcs produced a spiked club and smashed it against his shoulder. He yelled in pain and rolled, only to be hit in the leg, and then the side and the back, causing all his wounds to bleed afresh. That made him yell. He was hauled to his feet by his hair and held while an orc hit him across the face with brass knuckles, making his head ring and his vision darken for a second. He was hit again in the ribs and felt something crack. He screamed. He couldn't help it. He vaguely saw Azog's nasty grin and heard him chuckle before he saw Bilbo's anguished expression, the hobbit's face pale and sick. Thorin crumpled to his knees, but that wasn't all they had planned for him.

One of the orcs brought out a brand and pressed it into the back of his neck, forcing his head down. Before he could recover from that, he felt someone press their boot into the burn and keep his head down. More orcs stood on his wrists and ankles, holding him still. He jerked, but they ground their boots in, making him wince. He fought to breathe, his face pressed into the dirt, unable to see what was coming.

"Oh no, you're not!" He heard Bilbo protest and that didn't allay his fears any.

"It will actually help his wounds heal, halfling," Azog said with a chuckle. "You should be glad for it."

Thorin had no idea what they were talking about and then something gravelly was poured onto his back and all of a sudden a flare of hot agony spread over his entire body and he jerked with a cry of pain. But that wasn't the worst. An orc knelt beside him and pressed his hands into his back, rubbing the substance that he now realized to be salt, into his wounds mercilessly. Thorin screamed himself hoarse and when they finally let up, and released him, he had no energy to move. He had never been in such pain before. He had thought some of his wounds in the past had been bad, but this was far worse. Far, far worse and on top of that he was so ashamed of how he had handled it. Not like a king, but like a dwarfling. He should not have screamed.

He felt a boot in his ribs and cried out again as he was rolled onto his side, the boot digging into the ribs that were broken and making him choke out a yelp. He looked up to see Azog standing over him with a canteen.

"This will help," he said and knelt, raising Thorin's head with a mocking kindness. Thorin refused to open his lips, knowing what was in the canteen, but Azog gripped the base of his jaw and forced his mouth open, pouring some of the foul orc draught down his throat. Thorin gagged and spit it back at the orc who only growled and yanked Thorin into a sitting position, forcing the long spout on the canteen into Thorin's mouth, nearly making him gag again and pouring the foul brew directly down his throat. He took the canteen away and used a large hand to cover both Thorin's mouth and nose, forcing him to finish swallowing it even when he retched. The dwarf sat shaking, his body aching, and the draught burning a hole in his stomach, even if it did give him a little more strength. He looked woozily up at Azog and saw Bilbo hovering beyond his shoulder in the custody of another orc. He tried to put on a stronger air for the hobbit, but had a feeling he was failing miserably. Azog motioned for Bilbo to be brought to him and handed the hobbit the canteen.

"You should drink some too. Something tells me you'll need it tomorrow."  
"I won't drink that," Bilbo said firmly, turning green at the thought.

"I will make you drink it if you don't," Azog growled.

Thorin gave Bilbo a warning look and the hobbit sighed and raised the canteen reluctantly to his lips. He took a small sip and nearly lost it, but then fortified himself and took a deep swig. He clenched his jaw tightly and forced it down his throat, breathing through his nose until he was sure it wouldn't come back up and then handed the canteen to Azog. The Pale Orc smiled mockingly and patted Bilbo on the head.

"Good. Now you two may rest until tomorrow. You'll need it."

Thorin was dragged back to the cage. He would have been able to walk, but for them dragging him back up by his arms, aggravating not only his back but his ribs and badly bruised shoulder. It was all he could do not to cry out again, but he kept himself from doing so by gritting his teeth so hard he thought they would shatter.

He slumped into the small cage and Bilbo was shoved in and lowered himself to his knees, leaning over Thorin.

"You confounded idiot," Bilbo scolded, shaking his head. "What were you thinking?"

"I was thinking of keeping you safe, Master Hobbit," Thorin told him in no uncertain terms.

"This has got to stop," Bilbo growled, taking up Thorin's ruined shirt that had been left in the cell and using it to dab gently at his back even though every touch, as light as they were, sent a wave of agony through him. He reached up and grabbed the hobbit's wrist, forcing him to meet his eyes.

"No, Bilbo," he said firmly. "It doesn't. I must protect you." He knew he wasn't making any sense to the hobbit. Obviously because he had refused to explain anything to him. With panic, he felt himself fading. He had pushed them too far, they had really done a number on him this time.

Bilbo threw the bloody shirt down. "Why? Why, Thorin?" he screamed, clenching his fists. "I'm done with seeing you get thrashed for me! They could have killed you today! Before, you told me it was because I was one of your company, but there's more than that. Tell me, Thorin, so that I might at least try and understand and not call you an idiot!"

Thorin smiled sadly. Oh how many times had he been called idiot in the past for being overly protective of another he cared about so much. He winced, looking up at Bilbo, even as his eyes were fluttering and he knew he would be unconscious in another minute. "Because I failed to save him. And I must do better with you." And then all he had left was darkness.

**Yipes, I feel bad for writing that. Anyway. I'll try to get one more chapter up tomorrow so keep an eye out :)**


	6. Chapter 6

**And here's another chapter. Thanks so much to everyone who has read and reviewed. And a special thanks to the people who I can't reply to, I appreciate all your comments. This is a tough story, and I know it's not all nice, but I will promise a happy ending if you just bear with me. Even if it doesn't seem like it. Yeah, sorry to report more whumping in this chapter, but not as bad as last time. In advance, I'm so sorry!**

Chapter Six

Bilbo looked down in a mix of emotions at Thorin. What on earth had he been prattling on about? Who had he failed to save? Dwarves were so infuriating sometimes! They could never just come out and say what they mean, or what they were feeling. And Thorin had to be the worst of them all.

"Idiot," Bilbo muttered again, though more fondly. He did feel rather honored that Thorin, an heir to the throne of Durin would risk his life for a simple hobbit. But why he did so baffled him too much. He hoped it wasn't just because he was the only one who had any chance of getting past the dragon guarding the mountain. If that were the case, then Bilbo would gladly flay the rest of the skin off Thorin's back and enjoy it too!

But no, there had been sadness in his eyes. It spoke of loss, and Bilbo was determined to find out which loss Thorin had suffered to make him feel a need to protect Bilbo so thoroughly. Perhaps it was someone from the past that Bilbo reminded Thorin of? Whatever it was, he was going to get to the bottom of it eventually. Hopefully before they both died.

Thorin groaned and shifted in his sleep and Bilbo patted his shoulder to try and comfort him before he remembered the deep bruises there and stopped, hoping he wasn't hurting the dwarf further. He shifted slightly and reached out to run his fingers lightly over the bruises on Thorin's side and felt the slight sickening grate of cracked ribs. Thorin shuddered and inhaled and Bilbo stopped, though wished he could do more. He sat back against the corner of the cage and shifted Thorin's head more comfortably into his lap. His stomach roiled from the orc draught and he hoped he wouldn't throw up again. It did give him more energy, that was true, but he needed real food, and water on top of that, and Thorin needed the same or he would never keep up his strength. As painful as it had been for the orcs to have rubbed salt in his wounds, it would at least help stave off infection. At least Bilbo hoped that would be the case, but the pain was wearing on the dwarf though Thorin would never admit it, especially not to him. No, Bilbo was determined that Thorin wouldn't be the one to take the hits the next time. He knew that if he was beaten so harshly again, his ribs could break fully and puncture a lung and kill him. Though judging from what Azog seemed to be hinting at, he wouldn't have to instigate too much to have himself be the one to get tortured. Apart from that he decided it best to start thinking of an escape plan. He was the bugler after all, and he should get better at this sort of thing. Escaping the goblin tunnels had boosted his confidence a bit.

Nori had taught him a bit of pick pocketing and he felt that if pressed—which they certainly were right now—he could lift a knife or something from one of the orcs to aid in their escape. And then he would need the key to the cage. That might prove a little more tricky, but it would have to be done. That was why he needed to be beaten at least once. Because if they had to drag him back to the cage, they wouldn't be paying attention to his hands and thus, it would be easier for him to steal something.

He closed his eyes as he continued to come up with a plan and finally drifted off from sheer exhaustion.

* * *

_Thorin was startled awake_ later to the sound of the cage door opening and he came to and sat up with a groan, wishing he could continue to rest. He would never admit it, but he wasn't ready to take another beating right now. His entire body ached, and breathing was difficult with his cracked ribs. Bilbo's shoulder was under his arm, helping him sit upright, and he was about to protest, before he realized that he might fall without the support and that would only be worse. He gave the hobbit a silent look of thanks.

They were pulled out by the orcs and once again marched to the center of the camp. One forced them to drink more orc draught and Thorin watched Bilbo choke it down, fighting with every bit of will he had not to vomit. Thorin would have refused to drink the foul stuff if it didn't give him more energy and they had the prospects of something better. As it was, it seemed that if they wouldn't drink the orc draught, they probably wouldn't get anything else and that would be worse.

Azog joined them and Thorin looked up at him with a scowl.

"Was that beating more what you would expect from us, Oakenshield?" the Pale Orc asked mockingly.

"I wasn't disappointed," Thorin replied sarcastically. He shook his head. He had been around Master Baggins too long.

"I've decided to give you a rest today," Azog told him and Thorin felt his stomach plummet to his feet.

"What do you mean?" he asked coldly, trying to keep his anger at bay.

Azog turned to Bilbo and drew him close with a hand firmly clamped around his shoulder. "I think you know exactly what I mean, Oakenshield."  
"Azog," Thorin began, stepping forward but two orcs came to grab him by the arms, wrenching his injured shoulder around and making him cry out.

"It's a good thing that was your left arm my men injured earlier," Azog said with a nasty smile. "You'll need your right."

Thorin looked up at the orc who was fingering a whip at his belt with a meaningful look at the dwarf. Thorin's breath caught in his throat. No, he would not beat Bilbo, he couldn't. He had been able to instigate the hobbit to lash him, but he knew he could not do it the other way around. The halfling was simply too small. He was not a dwarf. Though he had come to be a friend and even a brother to Thorin and the rest of the company, Thorin could not forget that, though brave, he physically wasn't as strong as they were.

Thorin shook his head as Azog shoved Bilbo over to another orc who divested him of his shirt and tied him to the same branch Thorin had been tied to. The only problem was that Bilbo was a bit shorter and his feet did not touch the ground. The position alone was torture and though the hobbit tried to hide the pain, it still registered in the tightness of his expression.

Azog walked over and inspected Bilbo's' back, seeing scars there already. He frowned and traced one with his fingers.

"This was unexpected. I might have thought you would have a few battle scars, but not marks of a whip."

Bilbo smiled wryly. "Not the first time I've been beaten."*****

"Intriguing," Azog said, casting a look back at Thorin and smiling at the dwarf who knew his face was not entirely void of emotion. He had been afraid this would happen. He was a fool to have thought it might be avoided. Azog was too smart to play along with his games forever. Thorin knew the Pale Orc had likely been humoring him, but it looked like the time for humoring him was up.

"I would have thought that you had never been touched by such cruelty from the way Oakenshield protects you."

"He only protects me because he needs my skills to help him reclaim his kingdom," Bilbo growled and Thorin watched to see if his eyes lied. He honestly hoped that Bilbo did not think that was why Thorin was protecting him. Maybe he would just have to take a blow to his pride and tell the hobbit his real reasons.

Azog seemed to find the entire situation amusing as he looked between Bilbo and Thorin, trying to read their expressions. He handed the whip to Thorin, but the dwarf made no move to take it. Azog smiled even more at this.

"I am feeling in a good mood today, so I will give you two options Oakenshield," he said and held up the whip. "The first is that you whip your halfling. The second is if you let my man do it. With that." He motioned over to the side and Thorin looked reluctantly and watched as a huge orc holding a multi-tailed whip with barbs on the end swung at a tree and bark ripped under the impact. Thorin almost threw up. If it did that to a tree, he didn't want to know what it would do to a hobbit.

He turned back to Azog and grabbed the whip out of his hand. "Fine, but I want you to know that I am tired of your little games."  
Azog smiled. "Oh, but Oakenshield, I have just started playing them."

Thorin stood behind Bilbo and closed his eyes. He really didn't want to do this, but he had to because the alternative would be so much worse. He could not be selfish now. If he didn't steel himself and do this, no matter how much he hated it, Bilbo would only suffer more. There was nothing good about this situation, and he hated the beast who had forced it upon him. He wished he could rip Azog's guts out and he would if he got half the chance.

"Oh, and Oakenshield," Azog added. "If I don't see blood, then I'm going to have to deem you unfit for duty."

"Just do it, Thorin," Bilbo pleaded. "Just get it over with."

Thorin swallowed hard, and finally just knew he had to get this over with as Bilbo said. He swung and struck Bilbo across the back. The hobbit arched his back in surprise at the sudden strike and gave a soundless gasp. Blood trickled down and Thorin wished to stop, but knew he had to do it again. And again, and again.

By the fifth time, Bilbo was biting back yelps, and Thorin was afraid he was biting his lip. By the tenth, he was crying out without caring. Thorin wanted to cover his mouth, force him to be quiet, because this was only making it worse. Every cry of Bilbo's ripped him apart bit by bit. If only he could stop them, he would be able to do this. Thorin knew he was no longer hiding his suffering from Azog, which was obviously what the orc had hoped by this exercise.

After twelve to fifteen lashed—Thorin lost count—Azog finally motioned, somewhat reluctantly, for Thorin to stop and the dwarf dropped the whip to the ground, his body aching from his efforts and his heart aching from the forced beating he had given a friend. He was shoved back as the orcs came to cut Bilbo down. The hobbit crumpled to the ground with a moan, a pitiful, bloody heap. Thorin picked up his shirt gingerly, knowing the hobbit wouldn't want to lose it, and when he straightened up again Azog was right there behind him, his mouth almost pressed to his ear.

"And now Oakenshield, you see, I still have not tortured your halfling. _You_ have. But this game is not done. Not nearly so."

Thorin closed his eyes, turning his face away from the orc, but Azog gripped his chin and forced him to look into his face. "You cannot deny that you feel something for the halfling, and it is not a need for his services. You view him as a companion—perhaps more, something of a brother. It intrigues me, what you feel for this halfling. I wish to exploit it, see the extent you would go to for him. I already see that you would willingly give yourself for his wellbeing. But would you go farther?" Azog leaned close and Thorin felt himself trembling against his will, the orc's words chilling him to the bone. "Would you be willing to kill him to save him, if it came to that?"

Thorin looked up to meet his eyes full on, putting all the ferocity he could muster into his gaze, his voice shook with suppressed anger and emotion. "If you forced that upon me, you would already be dead."

Azog reached up with a nasty smile and stroked the dwarf's face mockingly. "If the time comes, we'll see how true that is."

Thorin glowered at him and received a backhand across the face. He turned his head back around to watch the Pale Orc walk away, and two orcs came to pick up Bilbo and drag him back to the cage. He hung limply in their grasp and appeared to be unconscious which only make Thorin feel worse.

The dwarf was also grabbed and shoved back toward the cage and he stumbled in, only to have Bilbo fall nearly on top of him. He waited until the orcs had left them alone before he laid Bilbo across his knees and took in the damage he had done.

Bilbo groaned, and Thorin put a hand on the hobbit's head to keep him still.

"Stay, Bilbo, it will only make it worse if you move."

"So you don't want these then?" Bilbo asked and his hands unfolded and revealed a key and a small dagger. Thorin looked at them in disbelief and Bilbo levered himself up with a grimace and tucked the items under Thorin's tattered and bloody shirt that sat in one corner of the cage.

"I had to get them to beat me at least once so I would have the chance to steal these."

Thorin shook his head, fighting a smile and Bilbo gave him a tired grin back. "Don't look so surprised. You hired me as a burglar. This is what I do."

"I just didn't know _you_ did, that's all," Thorin said and finally allowed the smile to break through.

"Well, I've picked up a few things on my travels," the hobbit said airily.

Thorin sighed and reached out to put a large hand on the hobbit's face. "I'm sorry I had to hurt you. It just would have been so much worse if I hadn't. Forgive me?"

"Of course," Bilbo said quickly. "At least you didn't enjoy doing it. I regret to say that I did in the moment when I whipped you but only because you were being such a confounded idiot at the time. I think it best we call it even and forget the whole thing." He glared at Thorin then who smiled faintly. "One of these days you really will have to tell me what's bothering you."  
Thorin might have told him then, but he kept his mouth shut. He knew he should tell him, but this just wasn't the time. It would come, he promised himself. But not now.

"Let's get some rest," Bilbo said. "As soon as the camp settles down, we're going to escape!"

Thorin settled down against the side of the cage, but there was an uneasy feeling in his stomach that would not settle and it wasn't just the orc draught. Azog's words had scared him more than he would even admit to himself. The one thing he was certain of was that they needed to get out of that camp tonight, otherwise, he didn't want to consider what might possibly befall them, or worse, what Azog would force him to do.

***Again, a reference to my story "The Courage of Hobbits" If you want to read it**

**And I thought I would leave you with a little hope at the end of the weekend. Before you kill me, I have to tell you that I'm going to be gone next weekend BUT I will post two chapters on Sunday night to make up for it. Maybe before then if I get a chance to post them sometime during the week.**

**I also think I owe everyone some sort of fluff after this story is over, so I'll see what I can do about that :)**


	7. Chapter 7

**Thought I'd post the next chapter tonight since I'll be gone this weekend. Sorry for the wait! Thanks again to everyone who has commented and favorited. Oh and someone asked why Bilbo isn't using his ring: I had meant to mention that at some point, after their capture, but I guess I forgot-anyway, the orcs took their coats when they captured them, and the ring was in his waistcoat, so he lost it then. Mentioning that was an oversight on my part. Hope you enjoy this chapter!**

Chapter Seven

They waited for the camp to quiet. Orcs were not as good about setting watch as dwarves. They thought they had no reason to fear, and they felt confident that their prisoners wouldn't be such fools as to try and escape. That was their problem. They overestimated their ability to frighten, but they had not broken Thorin Oakenshield yet, not had they broken Bilbo Baggins; not by a long shot, in fact, Thorin was rather surprised to see how well the hobbit was holding up. Better than he was, certainly, despite the whipping he had taken. Either that or he was just too busy to notice the pain at the moment, which was entirely possible. Thorin's body ached, but he was also full of anticipation and adrenaline and he hoped that would get him far enough away to be out of the orcs' reach before he gave into the pain.

As the sonorous sound of orcs snoring resounded around the camp, Thorin motioned to Bilbo that it was now or never. He watched the hobbit pull the key from under his discarded tunic and squeeze his small arm through the bars that would not accommodate Thorin's large forearms, and fit the key into the lock on the outside. He fiddled a bit, grunting and sticking his tongue out in concentration, but he finally got it turned and unlocked and with a smile of satisfaction, he turned back to Thorin who offered him a smile back.

"Well done, master burglar, now let us be off before they get suspicious." He took up his bloodstained tunic and wrapped it around himself for a little warmth at least even if it had been cut down the front. He used his belt to bind it together. Bilbo too, shrugged into his shirt again, wincing as it rubbed against his raw back. Unfortunately, they would be unable to recover their coats and weapons that had been taken from them when they had arrived in the camp, still unconscious. Thankfully, he hadn't had Ocrist with him out in the woods, but he would be losing a fine axe and they would be weaponless apart from the small orcish dagger Bilbo had stolen earlier.

"Ready?" he asked the hobbit.

"Ready," Bilbo replied and they pushed the door of the cage open, wincing at the slight squeak it made and then slipped out, grateful for the moonless night that would hide their progress. They slipped silently off into the woods, and tried to make as little noise as possible until they had traveled a good way from the camp to where the orcs wouldn't be able to hear them anymore. Once they were far enough away, they stopped to catch their breath, weak from the pain and confinement, not to mention the lack of food. Thorin hoped they could at least find a river soon to get a drink from.

"Now we just need to decide where we are," Bilbo said. "You're much better at this navigating than I am. I might be able to look at a map, but—"

Thorin laughed, unable to help himself. "Master Baggins, I hate to have to be the one to tell you this, but I have been teased my whole life for having a terrible sense of direction. As poor as you might be at navigating, especially in a forest on a moonless night, I am far worse."

Bilbo looked at him in exasperation. "So you're telling me that we were probably better off in the orc camp? That we might actually find out way _back_ there before we find out way to our companions? Oh, very nice, that, very good. Not only did I have to be captured by orcs, but I had to get captured with the most incompetent navigator in Middle Earth. Yes, very good indeed. Well, Master Oakenshield, what do you suggest we do then?"

Thorin found himself struggling to keep from smiling at the hobbit's indignant outburst. It was well deserved in any case. He wouldn't have wanted to get stuck in such a situation with himself either. He had been eternally grateful to Dwalin in their younger years when they had gone off on all sorts of adventures. The other dwarf had always been able to find his way back, even when Thorin was clueless as to how he had managed it. It was not for want of learning, Balin had certainly tried, but Thorin just was terrible at it, simple as.

"The problem, Master Baggins, isn't entirely the fact that I am a terrible navigator either. It's certain that the company has moved on since we were captured likely looking for us, and they could be anywhere. We have no idea how long we were traveling when the orcs took up, but I would expect something from one to three hours from where we were taken. That being said, we don't know how easy of a track they left to follow. It couldn't have been too easy or the company would have found us by now, so they could be anywhere at all. These are a big woods, and it's easy to get lost in them, and the best we can hope for it to find a safe place to hide out for a few days, find something to eat and drink, and stay there until we get wind of our companions. At least until we both heal enough to be able to travel long term. Do you agree with this plan?"

Bilbo sighed deeply, throwing his hands up. "I don't see how we can do anything else. Let's go then and try to find somewhere safe, if that's at all possible in these woods. We want to be far enough away by dawn, so that they won't find us."

Thorin nodded and pointed off to the right. "That's as good a direction as any. Come then, Master hobbit, let us not delay another minute."  
Bilbo grumbled but followed Thorin without too much protest. Thorin knew he had made light of their situation, but whether for his own sake or Bilbo's he wans't sure. He only knew that his body was fast losing energy, and they needed to find shelter and food fast before he was unable to go on too much further.

* * *

_Several hours later _and Bilbo didn't know one could be so tired and sore. Sure, he had been tired before on the journey; he still remembered his first few days out and how bone-weary he had been, unused to such exercise, but this was worse. His back ached, it was cold, and he shivered constantly, having nothing but his thin shirt and trousers to cover himself. His wounds had bled through his shirt and it stuck uncomfortably to his back, stiff and wet, making him colder still. Besides that, he was weak from hunger and thirst. He could feel it in his heavy limbs and slightly woozy head. He hadn't noticed it before back at the camp but now, up on his feet, and moving, he fully realized how bad off his was, and how the hunger was taking its toll on him.

But still, he knew he was no where as bad as Thorin. The dwarf was breathing raggedly, every other breath hitching painfully, as his ribs made it hard for him to draw a deep breath. But the longer they went, the more exhausted he was from pain and hunger, and the harder he was forced to breathe. He rested his hand against a tree every once in a while to try and catch his breath, but Bilbo knew he was suffering. His back had bled through his shirt as well, and he limped from the bruising to his thigh that the orc's club had caused him. He shivered like Bilbo, but unlike the hobbit, he seemed unable to stop. Finally, he tripped and fell to one knee with a yelp of pain as his ribs were jarred and Bilbo had had enough. He went over and put Thorin's arm over his shoulders, not caring how much the dwarf protested, and gritted his teeth against the pain of his back as he hauled Thorin to his feet again and kept him steady.

"I'll be all right, Master Baggins," Thorin ground out from between clenched teeth, but his words did not have their usual harshness. Now with his side pressed against Thorin's, Bilbo could feel his trembling from the cold and exhaustion both. Sweat from his exertion was on his brow and sparkling on his chest and Bilbo knew that was not good in the chill air and in the dwarf's condition. He might have even contracted a bit of fever. They would have to find somewhere to stay the night soon.

"You won't be if you continue on," the hobbit said sternly as he cast about, catching sight of a slight hollow under the roots of a huge tree. He motioned to it. "There, how about that? We can rest there for a while, it will be out of the wind, nice and cozy, yes?" He maneuvered Thorin over to it, ignoring his protests and forced the dwarf down to sit on the roots while Bilbo checked to make sure there was nothing dangerous in the little cave.

"Bilbo, we have to keep going, we haven't gone nearly far enough."  
"Thorin, if we keep going, we'll both collapse." Bilbo sighed, longing for a little warmth out of the frigid air. He wasn't exactly lying, and he knew that telling Thorin _he_ was on the verge of collapse would make the dwarf more kind to the thought of stopping now. "Please, my back's bothering me and I'm so cold. We'll rest for a few hours and then we can go again in the daylight when it's not so cold."

"Alright," Thorin said, and surprised Bilbo slightly with his easy agreement. The dwarf must be in more pain than he was letting on, Bilbo thought with worry. He helped Thorin squeeze himself into the small opening and settle in the cushy loam and dead leaves under the roots that would offer them a soft and warm resting place. Bilbo squeezed in after him and pressed himself up against Thorin's side. They shivered for a while, but as their body heat filled the small space, and they huddled together, they eventually warmed enough to be comfortable.

Bilbo had his arms hugged tight to his chest, keeping what little body heat he had close to him. He could hear and feel Thorin's ragged breathing and turned around slightly to look the dwarf in the face.

"Are you going to be all right?" he asked.

Thorin glared at him, but it held little poignancy. "With a bit of food or just something to drink I think I would be a lot better," he said, then sighed. "But aye, my ribs do pain me."

"It would be better if we had something to bind them with," Bilbo said with a frown. "But we can't afford to rip up our shirts and our trousers are out of the question. I suppose I could rip up our underwear—" he stopped when he heard Thorin chuckle lightly and looked at the dwarf indignantly. "What? Yes, I know it would be rather uncomfortable, but not nearly as much as a fractured rib going into your lung."  
"Must you always prattle on when you're worried?" Thorin asked, but this time it was not scathing. More fond. Bilbo still didn't approve and frowned indignantly at the dwarf.

"Oh, do I? I hadn't noticed. I'm sorry if it bothers you."

"It's actually rather fond and comforting," Thorin said. "My brother…" and then he stopped, something seeming to stick in his throat and Bilbo didn't turn to look at him as he longed to, knowing that Thorin would not want to see him trying to catch hold of the emotions he knew had stopped the dwarf from speaking. He didn't know anything about Thorin's brother but the fact that he had one and that he was dead. Bilbo longed to ask him, but this was not the time for it. He didn't want to upset Thorin any more than he already was in his condition. Instead, Bilbo settled more firmly against his side to offer a little comfort and tactfully changed the subject.

"We really should try and sleep," he said. "We need to reserve some energy for tomorrow. We'll have to find food and water." His stomach gurgled weakly at the mention of food and he wrapped his arms around his middle to quiet it as he felt queasy. He sensed Thorin smiling.

"You're right. I forgot hobbits need their comforts, food being a top priority. How many meals do you have a day, again, ten?"

"I'll have you know that just because we are small does not mean we don't need a lot of food to eat. We work very hard every day and use up all that food!"

"Oh yes, reading and dabbling around in the market are such exhausting pastimes," Thorin snorted. "Not to mention drinking in the pub."

Bilbo opened his mouth to protest, but decided against it. He wasn't going to get anywhere, so he settled down again with a humph, saying something under his breath about annoying dwarves. Thorin's deep breathing, even if it was pained, let him know the dwarf had dropped off. Bilbo wasn't exactly tired yet. He was too worried about how they would get out of there, and away from the orcs, and even more pressing, how they would find the company in the surrounding countryside. Thorin was right, even if they knew where they were on the map, that still wouldn't help them reunite with their friends. Bilbo only hoped that they would cross paths eventually. What would happen if they were unable to find them? Would they think Thorin and Bilbo had met some unfortunate end? Would they actually _have_ met some unfortunate end by that time, starving out in the woods?

Thorin groaned in his sleep and shifted into a more comfortable position, his breath catching as he winced, gasping slightly to readjust himself as his ribs caught. He didn't quite wake, and Bilbo turned around somewhat and patted Thorin's shoulder to soothe him before he settled down, finally feeling drowsy, and rested his head against the dwarf's broad shoulder, glad that, at the very least, he was not alone out here. For all his bravado and ability to keep his head in a tight situation, he really still was just a hobbit, and at that moment, stuck out in the cold woods, hungry and hurt, his Baggins side was returning with full force as much as he hated to admit it. He huddled closer to Thorin's comforting presence—comforting even if the dwarf was in worse condition than himself at the moment, and was finally able to drift off to sleep.

* * *

_They slept deeply_ and Thorin woke the next morning to some instinct that let him know something wasn't right. He opened his eyes and saw Bilbo curled against his side, snoring gently. He quickly put a hand over the hobbit's mouth and shook him awake. Bilbo woke, wide-eyed until he saw Thorin with a finger over his lips and he gave a nod to tell the dwarf he was not going to make a sound. Thorin took his hand away and looked up through the lattice of tree roots above them, still and listening. He heard it again, a shuffling of steps, several pairs. Bilbo heard it too and looked around frantically for the source, before Thorin clamped a hand on his arm to keep him still.

"Over here, we caught a scent!"

Thorin and Bilbo froze at the orcish voice not twenty yards away with the low guttural snarl of a warg that was accompanied with a sniffing sound. Thorin and Bilbo looked at each other with wide eyes, praying the warg would somehow not be able to smell them among the loam of the forest. There was nowhere they could run without being seen and despite that, they would never outrun the orcs in their condition. They were trapped.

The only thing they could do was wait until the orc riding the tracking warg were right over top of them. Bilbo clutched his dagger as if it might actually be able to do something. The orc looked down and smiled at the captives laying under the roots. Thorin closed his eyes in regret, defeat, as a sword blade was thrust through the roots and prodded his middle mockingly.

"Well, well, what do we have 'ere?"

**Just kidding, they didn't escape yet. I know I know, I'm sorry *hides*. I'll get the next two chapters up Sunday night to make up for this, promise :)**


	8. Chapter 8

**I'm back! And here's your chapter, sorry for leaving you with such a mean cliff hanger. In this chapter, Thorin finally tells Bilbo about Frerin. There's lots of feels. Tissues might be needed, as a warning.**

Chapter Eight

"I'm sorry, Bilbo. I'm so so sorry," Thorin said wretchedly as he tested the ropes that bound his hands behind him around the pole as he and Bilbo sat tied back to back. They had both gained several more cuts and bruises in their recapture and Thorin found it harder and harder to breathe, his cracked ribs having been bashed mercilessly and the pole pressing uncomfortably against his raw back. On top of that, the fever he had contracted only made it all worse. It wasn't unbearable yet, thankfully not causing delirium, but it made all his wounds hurt worse.

"Don't, Thorin, please," Bilbo pleaded, turning his head to one side, though not really able to see Thorin. "It's not your fault. I was the one who insisted we rest. I didn't think they'd find us so quickly. Damn those wargs!"

Thorin was silent. He knew what would happen to them now. He would be forced to watch Bilbo die, he knew it. It would be his punishment for running. Azog had not seen them since he had given Thorin a mean, but thankfully brief, beating when they were brought back to camp, and even then he hadn't said anything, just gave the dwarf a smirk, promising only more pain and suffering. But Thorin was most afraid of what Azog had said to him before, his words echoing in his head and spreading a panic through his blood: _I already see that you would willingly give yourself for his wellbeing. But would you go farther? Would you be willing to kill him to save him, if it came to that?"_

Yes, that was what scared him most: the fact that Azog might force him to end Bilbo's life out of mercy. And he had no idea what he would do when put in that situation. Would he actually do it? Would he be able to, even if the alternative would cause Bilbo to suffer beyond human capability? He closed his eyes in pain, both mental and physical. He didn't even want to fathom what the Pale Orc might do to drive Thorin to such a deed.

"Thorin." He was brought back to reality as Bilbo called his name and he opened his eyes again.

"What is it, halfling?" he asked quietly.

"I think it's pretty safe to say we're…well, that we're not going to make it out of this."

"Don't," Thorin hissed, but Bilbo cut him off.

"No, you know it, Thorin, just as well as I. I am not naive, as much as you might like to think so. I know what is going to happen." Thorin couldn't help a small sad smile at the hobbit's indignant certainty.

"I never said you were," Thorin said. "At least, I never meant it."

"But since we are to die," Bilbo said and Thorin heard him swallow hard, trying to be brave, but not entirely succeeding. "I want to know why you protected me. I know I saved your life, but this goes beyond that. Maybe you just want to make sure I get to Erebor so I can find the Arkenstone for you and friendship—brotherhood—doesn't even come into it. But I don't believe that either, so I wish you would tell me, because I don't understand, and I would like to, so that I can thank you properly before I die."

"Bilbo, please," Thorin pleaded. "Will you make me suffer all the more now? Now when I will have failed again?"

"You have not failed until we are dead!" Bilbo snapped angrily. "And we aren't, not yet, so please don't talk like that. Not when there is still a smidgeon of hope!"

"You were the one who mentioned dying in the first place, need I remind you, Master Baggins," Thorin said blandly.

Bilbo huffed in annoyance, but after a moment of silence between them, he turned his head and said quietly, "This is about your brother, isn't it?"

Thorin closed his eyes, feeling his throat tighten as all the pain of the past flooded through him. He had not seen it at first, not when he had first met the hobbit at Bag End, but later, he didn't know quite when, but there it was. For whatever reason fate had, he had seen Frerin in Bilbo. It had started with him grudgingly noticing small comparisons between them, things he had shrugged off as sentimentality, but as he got to know the hobbit better, there was more to be seen. His honesty, his tendency to speak his mind even if he was out of place in saying it, and the recklessness bourn of undying loyalty. The same thing that had gotten Frerin killed. It had not been until after Azog had attacked them on the cliff and Bilbo had run to him, alone, to stand over his fallen body, that he had fully realized the likeness between his brother and the halfling. And after that, it had only been a complete mix of emotions that he had had to sort out. Most of all was anger bourn of fear at Bilbo for doing such a thing, because he could not afford to lose him too, not after he had finally realized just how much the hobbit's friendship meant to him. He realized he had become a voice of reason to him. Frerin had always been that. He might have been his baby brother, but he had always been the one to keep Thorin's feet on the ground, his rock, and for all his recklessness, he had always been wise beyond his years and sure to say when he thought something was wrong. Bilbo now did that when the other dwarves would not, and Thorin needed that more than he had realized. No, he could not lose the halfling. It would kill him.

"Thorin?" Bilbo asked, concern in his voice.

Thorin fought back the emotions surging through him and swallowed hard. "Yes," he whispered. "It is."

They were silent for a long while and finally Bilbo spoke again. "Please tell me about him?"

Thorin took a deep, shaky breath. "His name was Frerin. He was my younger brother, but he was more than that. He was my best friend, even above Dwalin who I always loved as a brother anyway. He was reckless, but kind, a bit like Kili, but wiser. He always had something to say about everything and would always tell you what he thought without a care. He…he was always there when I needed him, always, and I failed to repay him that service when it most mattered." He closed his eyes and felt them smarting, tears pricking at them behind his eyelids.

"What happened, Thorin?" Bilbo whispered, half hesitantly, half in a need to know.

"Balin told you of the battle of Azanulbizar," Thorin continued, swallowing hard. "How my grandfather was killed by Azog, and my father was lost. Frerin also died that day. I…I was caught in the fighting, surrounded by the enemy alone with no one to watch my back. I was almost finished, wounded in too many places to count, but just as I fell to my knees, he was there, crashing through the orcs and dragging me to my feet. He forced me back into the fight, told me to lead the men, and then Azog came at me, and I could do nothing more than fight him, leaving Frerin to fend for himself. I lost track of him in the fighting, and when the battle was over, I still did not know where he was. I searched with the others for the fallen, our kin, and finally found him." He choked back a sob, tears falling down his cheeks now. "He was lying there in his own blood, but he was still alive, barely. He couldn't even speak." His breath hitched, and his chest heaved as the memories of that day washed over him in a painful wave of anguish. "But he smiled at me. He _smiled_ to tell me he was all right, that _it_ was all right, that he was not scared. And then he died in my arms." He stopped, trembling with emotion and sobbing deeply, not even ashamed. "He _forgave_ me for not being there. But I could not forgive myself. I never have. I left my baby brother to die. I failed in my duty to protect him. It was wrong, so wrong. He should not have died before me. He should not have!" He barely noticed he was screaming the words, did not see the orcs looking over with interest and sadistic pleasure. "You remind me of him so much, Bilbo," he finally said in a hushed voice. "So much, it _hurts_. That's why I protect you, because I can't stand to lose you too. It would be just like losing Frerin all over again, and that would surely kill me."

"Thorin," Bilbo whispered, his voice tight and wavering, and he lay his head back on Thorin's shoulder, the only form of comfort he could offer. The dwarf rested his head against the hobbit's, the tears still flowing down his cheeks as he fought back the sobs. They stayed like that silently for a while as they both fought with their emotions and only opened their eyes when a figure stepped over to them.

"A heartfelt moment indeed," Azog sneered at them and Thorin and Bilbo jerked around to look at him, startled. "Very touching. And now I know exactly how to cause you pain, Oakenshield," Azog chuckled and motioned to an orc to untie Bilbo.

"Azog, no," Thorin whispered, looking up pleadingly into the orc's face. "Please, I beg you."

Azog held up a hand to stop the orc, smiling in amusement. "What's this? The mighty King Under the Mountain _begs_ me? That is so rare, I might just have to consider this with more thought. Untie Oakenshield instead." Thorin sagged in relief as the orc left Bilbo and moved to him instead. He knew by now he was only stalling the inevitable, but any bit could help. Bilbo had been right. They should not lose hope until they were dead. Every second they stalled, gave a second where the company could show up. That was his only hope now, and if he had to die to provide Bilbo enough time to escape, then so be it.

"Thorin," Bilbo pleaded, but stopped. Thorin, now untied, looked back at him and saw the worry in his eyes, the tightness in his jaw that he was clenching to make sure he didn't speak, even though Thorin knew he had much to say, much to chide him for. But he was so glad he did not. Not this time.

Thorin was thrown to his knees in front of Azog. The Pale Orc looked down at him with sadistic amusement. The orc who had untied him, placed a boot on the back of his neck to keep his head down. "Well, Oakenshield, you said you would beg for the halfling's life. Will you degrade yourself such?"

"I will do what I must," Thorin said softly. "Please do not make him suffer for your hatred of me."

The orc stepping on his neck pushed him down harder so that his face was almost pressed into the ground.

"Beg me," Azog said from above, the grin clear in his voice.

Thorin heard Bilbo give a muffled cry and rage and shame flowed through him as he gritted his teeth and spat out the foul words. "I beg you, do not hurt him."

"Who are you begging?" Azog asked mockingly, obviously enjoying himself. Bilbo cried out again, much louder—what were they doing to him? "Tell me!"  
"Azog, I beg you," Thorin whispered wretchedly.

"Louder!"

"Azog, I beg you, do not hurt him!" he shouted.

Azog crouched in front of him and nodded to the orc with his foot on Thorin's neck and the pressure let up. The Pale Orc grabbed Thorin's chin and raised his face to look at him. The smile on his lips chilled Thorin to his bones and he suddenly had the horrible feeling he had made some fatal error.

"Oh, I won't hurt him, Oakenshield," Azog said mockingly, stroking the dwarf's hair with his claw in an oddly gentle manor as he leaned close and whispered into Thorin's ear. "You will."

**I had this thought a while ago that maybe Frerin was a bit like Bilbo, anyway, I liked that idea a lot so that's why I decided to write this story. I think Thorin needs someone like that to tell him how things are, and I always felt that a lot of the other dwarves wouldn't tell him when he's messing up out of respect. And I think that Frerin might have had that quality, and I think Thorin really does admire Bilbo for that same quality, so I kind of ran that together into a plot. **

**Anyway, on to the next chapter!**


	9. Chapter 9

**About all I can say for this chapter, is brace yourselves. You have been warned.**

Chapter Nine

"No."

Azog's hand gripped his throat and squeezed until he couldn't breathe. "If you want him to die quickly you will. Your brother didn't have that luxury, you should give your halfling that chance before I take it back and cut him apart bit by bit."

Thorin roared in rage and head-butted Azog, sending the orc back onto his backside. Thorin was on his feet in an instant despite his injuries, and he pounded the Pale Orc with his fists, feeling strong enough to be able to kill him with his bare hands, but Azog was stronger and uninjured, and dug his clawed hand into Thorin's leg right above the knee, making the dwarf cry out. He faltered only a moment in his onslaught, but that was enough for Azog to get the upper hand and swept his clawed hand at Thorin again, tearing across his stomach. Thorin fell to his knees with a muffled cry of pain, grabbing at his wounds. Azog got to his feet and pressed his boot into Thorin's injured side and kicked him onto his back. Tears of pain and grief bourn rage leaked from Thorin's eyes as he gasped for breath. In the same position as last time they had fought. He had failed again, and now Bilbo was not even there to come to his rescue. Azog stamped a boot onto his belly and ground it into the fresh wounds there, making Thorin cry out in pain.

"Very well, Oakenshield, if you're going the play it like this. I will teach you a lesson, you're not going to forget."

"No," Thorin cried. "No!"

"You lost your chance," Azog snarled. He nodded to his orcs. "Make him compliant; I don't want him causing trouble during the halfling's execution."

Thorin was set upon from all sides and beaten into submission. He fought tooth and nail, he was not gong to go down easy, but there he was fading, and he only had his rage and fear for Bilbo's life driving him. But his body wasn't going to let that drive him for much longer. Eventually, he would be forced to give in. But he would die before that. Then at least Azog couldn't use him against Bilbo.

Finally, a well-placed kick to his side broke his already cracked ribs further, and he collapsed in a heap of pain, gasping for breath. He just lay there, chocking on the dust as he tried to breathe, his whole body aching in pain. He was slipping out of consciousness and there was nothing he could do about it. He welcomed it, knowing that Azog would not hurt Bilbo until he was able to watch. He closed his eyes and let himself go, let the pain over take him, even as he heard the commotion around him. But he was too tired to care. Too tired, that is, until he heard Bilbo cry out in pain and that jerked him awake to living horror.

Bilbo grunted as the orcs hit him to get Thorin to comply and refused to cry out until one had kicked him nastily in the ribs and he had been forced to. He didn't want Thorin to hear, knew it would only be harder for the dwarf, but he couldn't help it. Besides, it distracted the orcs from what was going on behind his back.

Besides pick pocketing, Nori had also taught Bilbo, at his own insistence, a thing or two about escaping bonds. He had shown him how to hold his hands when he was tied in order to leave room to slip his hands free. Unfortunately, orcs were quite a bit stronger than him, and even though he had tried, he did not have enough wiggle room. There was only one more thing he could do. He recalled how Nori had told him he could break a thumb and slide his hand out. He balked at it, but Thorin was getting beaten to pulp, and all he could think about what his broken ribs and what would happen if they were driven into his lung under the orcs' onslaught. He was going to have to have a serious talk with the dwarf leader after this—providing they survived, that is—on constantly getting himself into potentially lethal situations and dragging Bilbo along, forcing him to be the one to come to the rescue. He might have had more than an ounce of bravery, but he was hardly used to this sort of thing, and it took enough time just to think of a plan when he had to watch his friend get beaten.

_This has got to be the stupidest thing I have ever done,_ he thought to himself as he closed his eye and grabbed one thumb in the opposite hand. He got a good grip and when the orc went to hit him again, he timed that with a good strong yank on his thumb and felt and heard the crack. He screamed louder this time, surprising the orc somewhat. The pain made him woozy, especially on his empty stomach and he had to stop his eyes from rolling up in his head, feeling as if he would vomit or pass out or both. He took several deep breaths to steady himself, his eyes open a crack, and watched as Thorin went down among the orcs, seeming to give up. Well, that wouldn't do at all. Bilbo wasn't going to let him do that.

He started to wiggle his hand loose. His thumb hurt more than he could imagine, and he groaned involuntarily as he slid it past the tight rope, but it was out! He easily slid his other hand out as well, and let the rope fall slack behind him. The rope that had been around his and Thorin's chests had been cut when they released the dwarf, so he didn't have to worry about those. The orc who had been standing over him had gone to join in Thorin's beating, and Bilbo was currently not being watched at all, so he cautiously stood up, swaying slightly before he was able to pick up an orc sword someone had dropped and with only a fortifying breath, he lunged forward with a battle cry to the orcs surrounding Thorin's crumpled figure.

The first one he struck in the back, who went down with a scream. The second turned, only to get the blade in his throat. It was hard to hold the sword with his broken thumb, but Bilbo somehow managed it, hacking and slashing and bringing down several orcs, until he was shoved backward and right into Azog's chest. He only half turned around before Azog smacked him across the face and he was thrown several feet, skidding against the ground, all his breath pounded out of him and his grip on the sword gone. He tried to scramble to his feet, but Azog reached out and grabbed him by his hair, hauling him painfully up to his toes. He clawed at the orc's hand, trying in vain to make him let go of his locks to no avail. Azog only smiled at him.

"You are pathetic, halfling. Did you really think you were going to be able to save him single handedly? Luck was with you last time, but this time, I was ready for you. And I will make you pay for it, little one." And without any further warning, he dug his metal claw into Bilbo's left shoulder, going straight through the muscle of his shoulder and neck and scraping against the collarbone at the same time. He could only gasp, the sudden, jarring pain taking all his breath away. He let out a strangled yelp as Azog lifted him off his feet, and Bilbo's hands scrabbled at the Pale Orc's arms. He could vaguely hear Thorin shouting at him though the blood pounding in his ears, but everything was going fuzzy at the edges. It seemed like an eternity he hung there, looking into Azog's ugly laughing face, before the orc jerked him forward, and threw him from his claw with a careless flick of his arm. Bilbo flew through the air and tumbled to the ground. He rolled several times before stopping on his wounded side, his shoulder crumpled beneath him, his mouth open for breath he could not take. Blood, his blood, poured from his open wounds, and he felt it pooling under him. So much, it made him sick. He gritted his teeth and moaned, his eyes rolling up. It was too much pain, he was losing too much blood—there was so much blood. Oh Mahal, he was dying, he knew it. He tried to sit up, but could not. He had no strength. He could not hold onto consciousness any longer. He scrabbled at the ground, needing something tangible to hold onto to keep him in the land of the living, but could find no strength. He felt his heart flutter and tears fell down his cheeks. _No_, he thought, _not yet, not yet, please not yet!_ He closed his eyes as he felt himself slipping. _Oh Thorin, I'm so sorry,_ was his last thought before he knew no more.

**Okay, I know that was really mean, don't worry though I'm really going to try to get the next chapter up either monday or Tuesday. I have it written, I just need to do some editing. I'm not happy with it now, but I think if I work on it, I'll be able to get there. Just bear with me!**


	10. Chapter 10

**I got it up, people! Okay, warning, this chapter is all pain, but please don't hate me until you finish it. Also, this is the last of the story I have written so far since I didn't get a chance to work on it this weekend, so I probably won't have any more updates until next weekend. Thanks again to everyone with their continued support reading and reviewing. Your kind words mean so much to me! :) It makes it so much nicer to write when you know people are waiting for it. **

Chapter Ten

"No! Bilbo, NO!" Thorin screamed as he watched in horror as Azog threw the limp hobbit onto the ground, cast him away as if he were naught but a rag. The dwarf forced himself to his feet, but hardly took two steps toward his friend before the orcs swarmed him again and grabbed his arms, yanking him back. He fought them, screaming all the time for Bilbo who had not moved a muscle. He was so limp, so lifeless, and there was blood—Mahal, there was so much blood, pooling around him. Thorin choked on a sob of rage as he snarled and fought the orcs, but he was too weak and they forced him to the ground and tied him hand and foot. He still continued to scream and curse at them, struggling with everything he had left until Azog kicked him in his wounded side and he gasped in pain, finally dropping to the ground in a panting heap, choking on the dust, and sobbing in anger and grief. All he could think of was how he had failed Frerin and how he had now failed Bilbo too. After everything, the outcome had been the same, and Azog had won. He had broken Thorin, and he had killed this new small hope in his life that things could be better. And after he was dead, Azog would go after the company and kill Fili and Kili as well, and take everything away from him. Thinking of his nephews put into a similar position as himself gave him a little strength to go on. Maybe he could at least keep Azog from hurting them. He could not stand to think of them going through this too.

Azog grabbed him by the back of his tunic that had practically been ripped to shreds, and dragged him back to the post he and Bilbo had been tied to. He hauled Thorin onto his feet and the other orcs tied ropes around his chest, keeping him there, unable to move more than an inch. Azog bent to look Thorin in the eye and the dwarf spat in his face.

"I will kill you for this, you scum," Thorin snarled. "Do not think that I will make it swift!"

Azog smiled and gently caressed Thorin's cheek, making the dwarf shudder involuntarily. "Your turn will come in the morning. My scouts have reported that your company is in the area and they should be here by then. I want to make sure your kin sees what I do to you. What do you think your nephews will think, Oakenshield, seeing you like this? Not fit to be a king after all. Their deaths will not be fast either. I will gut them slowly and hang them by their own entrails."

Thorin spat something vile in Khuzdul and Azog smiled. "But there's nothing you can do about it. Now I will see if there's any life left in your unfortunate halfling. And if there is, I'll have to do my best to remedy that."  
Thorin jerked at his bindings, his wrists bleeding as he yanked at the ropes that bound them, but they were too tight and he could barely move. He watched in horror as Azog strode over to Bilbo's still form, trying to form some desperate plan, but then there was a sudden shout and an arrow whizzed out of the dark woods and hit Azog in the shoulder.

The orc shouted in pain, and ripped the shaft from him angrily, and in that second of distraction, Thorin's company poured out of the trees, with Fili and Kili and Dwalin at their head, screaming bloody murder as they hacked into the orcs who hardly got a chance to draw their weapons. Thorin wanted to weep in relief. Help had finally arrived! He closed his eyes and gave a prayer of thanks.

Azog was shouting to his orc—those that were left standing, anyway—and they gathered their wargs and made a hasty retreat. The Pale Orc gave one last glance to Thorin, his eyes narrowing as a sneer found it's way to his lips. Thorin glared defiantly back at him, knowing this was a promise that they would meet again, and then the orc was gone.

"Uncle!"

He looked up in time for Fili and Kili to run up to him, slicing his ropes before they threw their arms around him, their embrace being the only thing keeping him upright. He could do nothing but wrap his arms around them in turn and didn't have the heart to mention how much they were hurting him with the embrace, especially not after he felt Kili's tears on his neck.

"We were so worried," the younger sobbed, his hands clutched in his tunic.

"We were sure we'd never see you or Bilbo again," Fili added, his own voice tight and wavering. Thorin wished he could comfort them, but he tensed at the mention of his hobbit, and he extricated himself from his nephews' embrace as gently as possible.

"Boys, let go, we need to get somewhere safe first," he said, and staggered away from them.

"Uncle, you're hurt, let us take care of you!" Kili insisted, wiping his eyes quickly.

Thorin ignored them and forced himself over to where Bilbo still lay, now with Bofur and Balin crouched over him. Thorin shoved through them and collapsed by the hobbit's side, startling the two dwarves.

"Thorin!" Balin exclaimed upon seeing his condition, but he ignored the older dwarf and reached out a hand to Bilbo, afraid even to touch him. Oh, the blood! There was too much, he knew there was far too much.

"Bandages, now!" he snapped, already tearing off his shredded and bloody tunic and pressing it against the wound in Bilbo's shoulder and neck. He tore the hobbit's shirt off and ripped it into strips to bind his tunic to Bilbo's shoulder. His heart was in his throat, but it leapt a bit as he saw the hobbit stir and groan at his ministrations. He pulled Bilbo into his lap and cradled him gently in his arms, not liking the way the hobbit's head lolled against his forearm.

"Bilbo, open your eyes," he commanded. "Damn you, open your eyes, halfling! You idiot! I'm not going to let you leave me!"

As if hearing the command, Bilbo's eyes fluttered open and tried to focus on Thorin's face, but seemed unable to. "Thorin," he whispered, unable to say more.

"Bilbo, stay with me," Thorin commanded as Bilbo's eyes rolled up in his head again and he gulped back a cry of pain. Thorin shook him, his fear doubling again, panic setting in his chest and making his throat tight. "Bilbo stay with me, brother, my brother, oh Mahal, please don't!" He gasped out a sob. "Don't leave me!" he screamed and Bilbo tried to touch his arm, but his hand wouldn't move, and so he smiled instead.

"I forgive you," he whispered. "I'm sorry. Don't blame yourself. Brother." And then he went completely limp with a sigh in Thorin's arms and the dwarf shook him, unbelieving, not willing to admit it. No, it wasn't happening. Not again. Not again.

"No, I told you not to leave me!" he shouted. "Damn you, halfling! Damn you! You know you can't do this to me!" And then he wasn't able to shout anymore. He doubled over with a wracking sob, clutching the small body to his chest. He didn't notice the rest of the company. Fili and Kili standing behind him, pale with shock, wanting to comfort him, but unable to move, horrified at seeing their uncle in such a vulnerable situation. It was finally Dwalin who came to Thorin, unable to see him like this, and clamped a hand onto his shoulder, trying to pry Bilbo from him.

"Thorin, let go, there's nothing you can do now," he said. "He's—"

"Get away from me!" Thorin screamed, lashing out and hitting Dwalin on the side of the face. The big dwarf stumbled back in shock, but Balin clamped a hand on his shoulder and drew him away.

"Leave him, Dwalin, let him grieve. Everyone, go! Kili, let's go."

Thorin didn't notice them leaving; he didn't care either way. All he knew was the limp form in his arms. He was so angry at Bilbo. He knew what Thorin had told him, he knew how it would hurt him if anything happened to him, and then he had gone off and been stupid and gotten himself killed. This time there was no Gandalf, there were no eagles, and he hadn't been able to repay the favor Bilbo had given him and saved his life. He had failed again. Just like with Frerin. It seemed there were no second chances.

"I'm not going to let you die that easy," Thorin told him from between clenched teeth. "You'll suffer for this too. It's not going to be that easy. You can't just leave me like that." He straightened up and laid the hobbit down on his back, clasping his hands into a fist and slamming them into the center of Bilbo's chest. The hobbit's body jerked. Thorin did it again and again, cursing at the hobbit all the way. If anything would bring him back it was that. He insulted him, anything to get a reply, some sign of life, and he pounded on Bilbo's chest, forcing his heart to beat—if the hobbit refused to keep is heart beating, then Thorin would do it for him.

"Thorin, stop!" he heard Balin shout from behind him.

"You'll kill him, laddie!" Oin cried.

But Thorin kept at it, a grim snarl on his face as he pounded hard on Bilbo's chest. He felt a rib crack under his fist, but didn't stop. He heard Kili screaming at him, scared and horrified and finally felt strong arms he knew to be Dwalin's grab him and yank him back. He fought, he bit and Dwalin cursed, but held tight until Thorin brought up a boot between his legs and the large dwarf cursed even more foully and finally let Thorin go. Thorin continued to slam his fists into Bilbo's chest before he was taken hold of by more hands and this time he couldn't fight them all. He gave u, and let them take him, collapsing back into Gloin and Balin, sobs once again choking him. His eyes still on the still body of Bilbo. His hands, shook. What had he done? He was going insane. And then, just when he was about to give into the fact that he would never see his burglar again in this world, Bilbo's eyes flew open and he gasped.

**Wow, yeah, this chapter just hurt. I hope it didn't leave too much lasting damage.**


	11. Chapter 11

**Here's the next chapter! Don't worry, there's not such a terrible cliffie this time, I promise. Sorry for the wait. Thank you so much for all the lovely reviews, I'm so glad you're enjoying this story, even if it's a hard angsty one.**

Chapter Eleven

All the dwarves jerked back, some cursing, some gasping, shocked to see Bilbo come back to life. The poor hobbit scrabbled on the ground, trying to get his breath back, gasping and moaning in pain. Bofur was the first one to act, rushing forward to kneel beside Bilbo and take his hand.

"It's all right, Bilbo, you're safe now," the kind dwarf said with a reassuring smile before he turned to the others. "Well, somebody come help!"

Oin stepped forward and Thorin just sat on the ground and watched, shocked, unbelieving, not knowing what to think. He felt completely and utterly shattered. One moment he had lost Bilbo, and now he was back; in his current state, he was unable to register what he should feel. He rose shakily to his feet, shoving Kili back as the young dwarf rushed to help him, and staggered over to Bilbo. The hobbit was propped against Bofur's knee, and he looked up blearily at Thorin, so tired his eyes would hardly stay open, but still he sought the dwarf's face.

"Th-Thorin…" he whispered.

The whispered name shattered Thorin to his very soul. His hands clenched and he ground his teeth, glowering down at the hobbit so darkly that Bilbo shrank back.

"How dare you?" Thorin growled low in his chest. "How dare you do that to me? Don't ever, ever do that to me again or I will not save you next time!"

"Thorin!" Balin protested, but Thorin couldn't stand there anymore. He spun around and strode off into the woods, needing to be alone. Needing to think this over for himself. He couldn't fathom what had just happened. Everything that had happened in the last few hours had seemed like a nightmare. There was relief somewhere at the fact Bilbo was alive, but it was overshadowed by so much more. Fear, for the most part, fear for the fact he had almost lost him, and that—he could not deal with it, not now.

He pressed his hands against the trunk of a tree and just leaned against it, breathing heavily, his head hanging down between his shoulders. He had to get ahold of himself, of his tangled emotions that he knew needed to be seen to, but he couldn't seem to find the strength to do so. He trembled all over, and he paid little attention to how much the heavy breathing hurt, not to mention that his struggles against the others had hurt his wounds, making everything worse. The pain in his ribs beat a jagged tattoo through his weak body with each breath he took.

"Oh, Mahal I've gone insane," he whispered to himself. "I've gone insane just like my grandfather."

"No, lad."

He jerked around, pushing off from the tree, and feeling suddenly light headed as he did so. He staggered, but Balin caught him by his forearms before he could fall and didn't let go of him afterward.

"Leave me," Thorin told him, trying to pull away from the older dwarf, but he was too weak now and Balin was not about to let him go.

"I'm not leaving you like this, laddie," the old dwarf told him. He had brought Thorin's coat with him, seeming to have found it among the orcs' things, and put it around Thorin's shoulders to keep off the chill before he brought one hand up to brush Thorin's hair out of his face. It was a disaster, not having been brushed in days. Balin's hand smoothed it back so he could look into his eyes, and then he took Thorin's face between his hands.

"Thorin, you are not well," he said simply and stopped the younger dwarf before he could protest. "I don't know all of what you have been forced to endure in the past few days, but I think it was all too much. But you didn't need to yell at Bilbo like that, laddie; he's been through all too much too, by the looks of it."

"No," Thorin whispered. "He was the strong one. He was the one who got me through. Just like Frerin always did, and I failed him. I let him die."

"You brought him back," Balin protested, shaking Thorin slightly to get him to see sense. "Thorin, I see how much you care for him, and I have seen too, that he is much like Frerin. I wondered when you would notice that. But you should find it a joy that he is like your brother, not a burden, as you seem to. I can see too, how devoted he is to you, how he seems to see himself as a brother to you. You cannot be willing to sacrifice yourself for someone you love, and not expect them to do the same."

"I can't lose him, Balin, I can't," Thorin pleaded. "You see what it will do to me."

Balin put his hands on Thorin's shoulders and looked him straight in the eye. "But today, all is well. You both are safe, and your wounds will mend and then you can mend those not of flesh and blood. Now come, let Oin see to your wounds, you need rest, you're burning with fever and bleeding."

Thorin tried to follow him, but he had lost so much strength he could not even stand. His knees buckled and had Balin not still been holding onto him, he would have crashed onto his face. The older dwarf lowered him to the ground and held him against his knee. Thorin rested his head on Balin's shoulder, too exhausted to move.

"Oh Thorin," Balin said with a sigh in a fatherly voice as he looked down at the quickly fading dwarf king in his arms. He looked past him into the shadows, knowing his younger brother was there, waiting, and Dwalin stepped out and bent to take his friend up in his arms. Thorin moaned in protest, but there was little else he could do. He simply turned his face into Dwalin's fur coat and finally allowed himself to pass out as the two brothers, his oldest friends, saw him back to camp.

* * *

_Bilbo didn't quite know_ what to think. He had been nearly certain he had died. He must have! There could be no other explanation for what had happened. Either that or maybe he had just passed out. All he remembered was Thorin holding him, sobbing over him in a very un-Thorin-like manor and him telling the dwarf that he forgave him so that he would not cry. And the next thing he knew, he was awake, the others had come to their rescue presumably, and Thorin was yelling at him never to do—what?—again. He was all very exhausted and in quite a lot of pain, and all he seemed able to do was sit against Bofur and allow Oin to poke and prod at him. It was also very hard to breathe. His ribs hurt horribly, and he didn't remember Azog hitting him there.

"Why do I hurt so bad?" he asked, slurring his words a bit with exhaustion and pain.

"That might be because Thorin was pounding on your chest," Bofur told him nonchalantly, but Bilbo frowned.

"What do you mean?" he asked. "Why would he do that?"

There was no answer this time, and the awkward silence reigned in the camp, making Bilbo worried for a moment.

"What happened?" he asked, trying to sit up, but gasping in pain and Oin pressed him back into his original position to finish off closing the wound in his shoulder.

"Well, Bilbo," Bofur started, seeming hesitant to continue.

"Well, what?" Bilbo demanded, regretting it as it used up too much breath and he felt a wave of agony go through him at his efforts.

"You were dead." It was Kili who said it, his eyes still wide with the horror of what he had witnessed, and scared for his uncle. Fili stood beside him, his arm around his younger brother's shoulders even when he looked as haunted as he.

Bilbo stared at the young dwarf like he was insane. "Excuse me, I was _what_?" he stuttered, forgetting the pain for a moment.

Fili left his brother and went to crouch at Bilbo's side, putting a hand on his knee gently to reassure him. "You really did die, Bilbo, for a few minutes. But Uncle Thorin brought you back. He started your heart again."

Bilbo raised a shaky hand to his chest and felt his heart pulse under it, glad that it was beating at least. As he looked down, he did see many bruises there and his ribs certainly were broken. He didn't know what to say. Thorin had saved his life, he had done for Bilbo what he had been unable to do for his brother. No wonder he was angry. He must have been so angry that he could have saved a hobbit but his warrior brother had been lost to him. But no, no, that wasn't it. Bilbo threw those unkind thoughts away almost instantly. Thorin's words echoed in his head and now he finally understood them: _How dare you do that to me? Don't ever, ever do that to me again or I will not save you next time!_

Bilbo gasped and tried to sit up, only to have Bofur, Oin and Fili all try and press him back.

"Where's Thorin?" he asked, "I need to see him."

"I don't think that's the best idea, Bilbo," Fili said warningly. "He needs to cool down a bit, trust me."

"Fili, let me see him!" Bilbo pleaded, gasping in pain as he struggled against them. "Carry me if you must!"

"You're not going anywhere, laddie," Oin growled at him as he moved on to bandage the hobbit's ribs. "You've lost far too much blood."

"Just give him some time alone," Fili said again. "He left for a reason."

"But I'm afraid he'll do something stupid!" Bilbo protested. "He's been very reckless of late!"

"Balin and Dwalin went after him," Bofur told him. "Just relax, Bilbo, don't fret yourself. You'll be able to see him again soon."

Bilbo suffered Oin to care for him, and then the healer pressed a warm drink to his lips.

"Drink this up, lad, it will help give you strength after the blood loss." Bilbo dutifully drank it, and then turned at Kili's cry of "Uncle!" to see Dwalin returning to camp with Thorin limp in his arms. Bilbo cried out as well, and tried to get up again, but Oin and Bofur were positioning him into a bedroll and they just pressed him back and covered him with a blanket.

"Stay, lad!"

"He's all right," Balin assured the others. "Or, as all right as can be expected. He just passed out from his injuries." He put a reassuring hand on Kili's shoulder as the young dwarf hovered around his uncle who Dwalin was laying on a bedroll. "Don't worry, lad, it will be easier to treat his injuries like this."

Bilbo looked anxiously over at Thorin's still figure, which they had laid down next to him. He looked so wasted, his face tight and his body covered in blood and wounds and flushed from the fever. And most of this was all his fault. Oin was already starting to see to the dwarf king, taking his coat from him and calling for more light as he inspected the numerous wounds, particularly the fresh slashes across his stomach and the deep wounds in his thigh from Azog's claw. Thorin moaned and jerked slightly as Oin worked and Bilbo reached out with his un-bandaged hand, and wrapped his fingers around Thorin's, squeezing his larger hand with as much effort as he could give. Thorin's fingers curled around his and Bilbo felt his eyes dropping closed. Maybe Oin had put something in the drink, or maybe he was just that exhausted, but he could not stay awake any longer and he finally allowed himself to slip off, truly resting for the first time in days.

**I've nearly finished writing the story, there's just a few chapters left. I'll post the next one tomorrow!**


	12. Chapter 12

**Here's the next chapter as promised! Mostly healing in this chapter, and Thorin is being a bit of a jerk again *sigh* dear Thorin. I hope he's not coming across as too OOC in this story, but I think that his character is definitely capable of these reactions. I'll try to get the next chapter up tomorrow. It still needs some work, but I should be able to get it finished :)**

Chapter Twelve

Thorin woke blearily, unsure of where he was. He half expected to be kicked awake again to some new torment, but he felt more comfortable than that. He was covered and laying on something soft, his breathing was restricted by many bandages, and there was a warm presence resting close by. He finally opened his eyes to see what it was and found Kili curled at his side; not really touching him lest he did Thorin any damage, but there both for comfort and to be comforted by his uncle's presence, one hand resting lightly on Thorin's forearm. Fili slept on Kili's other side, an arm slung protectively over his brother's waist. Thorin felt bad for the fright they had likely suffered when he had been captured. Kili would have tried to be brave, but would have been terrified, and Fili would have always shown a strong face for his brother, but would likely have suffered sleeplessness with his own worries. Thorin found himself smiling at the sight of them curled up together, something so familiar, so fond, that it nearly brought tears to his eyes. He gave a prayer of thanks that the horrors were all over now. At least for the most part.

He became gradually aware of something in his right hand and as he frowned and turned to look, he saw Bilbo laying on a bedroll only a few feet away, sleeping deeply, but with his hand clasped loosely around Thorin's. Thorin felt a wave of emotions as he took in the hobbit. He pressed the small hand fondly in his, feeling the callouses that had grown there since the journey had begun. Bilbo was pale, and drawn, and every so often, his shallow breathing hitched. No, it was true, he did not resemble Frerin at all in looks, but yet, Thorin was so reminded of his brother. Frerin had always offered him and Dis small comforts even when he himself was sick or injured, just as Bilbo did now by clasping his hand. And Thorin had been so terrible to him, he had yelled at him for no reason. He had been so scared.

"I'm so sorry, Bilbo," he whispered, wishing the hobbit would wake. He needed to talk to him, but he did not wish him to be in pain, so he wouldn't wake him. Thorin's entire body ached and he knew there were still traces of fever in him, for he felt achy and overwarm. He turned back to look at his nephews and bent to kiss Kili's dark head, nuzzling his cheek against it as he closed his eyes again. Someone stirred and he opened his eyes again wearily to see Fili sitting up, an anxious look on his face Thorin knew he would never show if Kili was awake. Thorin offered him a small smile though he felt it was a lie.

"Uncle, are you all right?" Fili whispered.

Thorin reached out and put a hand on his cheek, stroking his thumb gently against the young dwarf's face.

"Yes, Fili, I'll be all right."

Fili seemed to relax and settled down on his bedroll as Thorin closed his eyes again, this time actually managing to fall asleep quickly.

* * *

_Bilbo didn't want to wake up_, but he was so thirsty that he could hardly swallow, so he opened his eyes and tried to focus on his surroundings. He had a moment of panic before he remembered that they had been rescued. It was nighttime now, and he didn't know how long he had slept. The rest of the company seemed to be sleeping, but Fili was sitting at the foot of his uncle's pallet, smoking a pipe. Bilbo opened his mouth to ask for water, but all he got out was a slight moan. Fili turned around and smiled as he saw the hobbit awake.

"Bilbo, how are you feeling?" he asked kindly.

"C-could, I ha-have a drink?" Bilbo managed.

Fili got up, seeing his distress and went to find some water. Bilbo noticed then that he still had Thorin's hand clasped in his. He gently removed his fingers now, seeing that the dwarf was asleep. He smiled fondly as he saw Kili curled up against Thorin's other side and figured the young dwarf would offer enough comfort to his uncle now.

Fili came back soon with the water as well as Oin and Balin. The blond dwarf sat down at Bilbo's head and propped him up a bit as Balin put the cup to his lips. Bilbo drank greedily, though they wouldn't let him drink too much.

"Let me just check over your wounds, lad and then you can rest again," Oin told him as he moved Bilbo's blankets and saw to his bandages. Bilbo sighed and waited for him to be done to ask for another drink. Just the little bit of water he had had made him feel a world better. His shoulder and ribs ached, and his back was still sore, not to mention that he was too weak to move more than his hand, but he felt that he would be all right.

"If you don't mind my asking, Bilbo," Balin said gently. "Would you tell us exactly what happened?"

Bilbo took a deep breath and told them as well as he could what had happened from their capture until their rescue. The three dwarves listened grimly as Oin worked on Bilbo's wounds and finally bandaged them back up.

"Are you going to be all right, Bilbo?" Fili asked worriedly.

Bilbo nodded, rather surprised himself. "I, strangely enough, I think I will be all right. Maybe it hasn't really set in yet, but, no, apart from my wounds, I feel fine. But Thorin…I don't know."

"We'll get Thorin back on his feet, both mentally and physically, lad," Balin told him, placing a gentle hand on his unwounded shoulder. "Don't you worry about it."

"That's the problem, Balin," Bilbo said with a sigh as he allowed Fili to lay him back down. "I think I'm the only one who can make it better."

Balin smiled sadly. "Perhaps you're right, laddie. Now why don't you rest, and when you wake up, we'll see if you can handle some broth."

Bilbo nodded and closed his eyes, seeming unable to keep them open anymore.

* * *

_The next time Thorin woke_ was to prodding and poking that was too uncomfortable to sleep through. He groaned and opened his eyes to see Oin kneeling beside him, tugging at his bandages.

"You're awake, Uncle." Thorin looked over to see Kili and Fili sitting by his side, watching anxiously. He made a quick glance at his other side and saw that Bilbo must have already been seen to, because he was tucked firmly beneath his blankets and his hand was no longer in Thorin's. The dwarf king reached out to his nephews and Kili took his hand and clutched it like a lifeline in his lap. Fili looked on in concern.

"It's all right, lads," Thorin felt inclined to say, even giving them a small smile. "I'll be all right." But he wouldn't, not until he could discuss everything with Bilbo. There was too much that had gone unsaid—his own fault—and he needed to repair it before it was too late. Before he dug himself further into a hole he could never hope to get out of.

"How is the patient, Oin?" Balin asked as he came up and smiled down at Thorin.

Oin grunted. "Better than should be expected after the battering he took. But it will be a while before he's up and about."

"I'm fine," Thorin growled, hating to be fussed over and talked about when he was sitting there, helpless to do anything about it. Balin offered him a smile and crouched with a tankard in hand.

"Here's a little water. You're terribly dehydrated." Thorin made no protest when he was lifted against Balin's shoulder and the cup was pressed to his lips. He drank heartily and would have drank more if Balin hadn't taken the cup away with an admonishing click of his tongue. "Easy lad, easy. You've had naught in your belly but orcish filth for days and you'll make yourself sick if you drink this down so fast."

"How did you know?" Thorin asked, puzzled.

Balin nodded to Bilbo's sleeping form. "Bilbo told us everything. He woke a few hours ago."

"How is he?" Thorin asked hesitantly.

"Better than you, even if he did die," Balin said brusquely and Thorin flinched at the memory of that horrible moment. Balin patted his shoulder kindly and offered him another drink. "I'm going to have to shave what's left of your beard, Thorin," he said gently.

Thorin closed his eyes. If nothing could be worse. But he knew that in order to grow it back fully after Azog had hacked it mercilessly it would have to be shaved off completely.

"It will grow back, Uncle," Fili said gently, giving Thorin a reassuring smile.

Thorin didn't say anything. What was one more indignity after all he had already been through? It would serve him right.

"I'll go get the things," Balin told him, gently laying him back on the bedroll. "There's no point in delaying it."

An hour later, Thorin's face was clean-shaven, but looked the worse for wear, being covered in bruises and cuts. He would not even look in a mirror, not wanting to see how terrible he looked. Even Kili, who might have found the situation of his beard being shaved off hilarious at any other time, was sober and seemed pained by it. Balin had also washed his hair and brushed all the tangles out of it, which had taken quite some time, and he now lay with it still slightly damp, but plaited in a single braid that lay over one shoulder. He was exhausted again by then and closed his eyes to try and sleep some more.

But before he could fully drift off, he was brought back into wakefulness by a small groan and gasp from his other side. He opened his eyes, worried that Bilbo might be doing poorly, but he found the hobbit's eyes on him and Bilbo managed the smallest of smiles.

"Thorin," he whispered.

Thorin couldn't find the energy or the will to return the small smile. "How—how are you?" he asked, hesitantly.

Bilbo rolled his head slightly in a shrug since it would pain his heavily bandaged shoulder too much. "I'm doing better than I expected. Just glad to be back among friends. How about you?"

Thorin wasn't sure how to reply. There were so many things he wished to say, but had no energy for them right now. No, of course he was not all right! How did Bilbo find the gall to ask him that at all? But there was only friendly concern on the hobbit's face. Did he really not see it? Did he not understand what he had done to Thorin, how he had torn his heart out and stomped on it when he had allowed Azog to…_kill_ him? Making him relive all the horrors of Frerin's death. Thorin felt a wash of anger flow through him at that. He knew he shouldn't feel that way, not after the sacrifice Bilbo had made, and what a dear sacrifice, but, oh, how he wished Bilbo Baggins knew what he had done, knew so he wouldn't be so foolish as to do it again. But Thorin couldn't say a word of that now. Not when the camp was within hearing. Not when he was in too much pain, and his mind muddled from the fever. The urgency he had felt before to talk to Bilbo vanished into a dark anticipation that would have to wait for later when he was better able to form the words he wanted to say.

"Thorin?" Bilbo asked with a frown, concern on his face. "Are you all right?"

"Fine," Thorin growled and Bilbo frowned deeper at that and reached out to put a hand on Thorin's wrist, but the dwarf pulled his arm away and Bilbo tucked his hand back under his blanket, hurt and annoyance on his face.

"Sorry," he whispered and turned his head to the other side. Thorin felt guilt rise in him, but would not let it eat at him. Not this time. Thankfully at that moment Bofur and Balin came along with bowls of broth for the invalids and that broke the awkward silence that had settled between them. But as Thorin settled back to sleep again—the only thing he seemed able to do anymore—he could not forget what he would have to discuss with Bilbo, and though he knew it needed to be said, his guilt and self-hatred ate at him until he could hardly find the will in himself to sleep at all.


	13. Chapter 13

**Well, only a couple more chapters left to go now! Thorin and Bilbo finally get things sorted out in this one though. Hope you all enjoy ^^**

Chapter Thirteen

Thorin and Bilbo hardly spoke for several days afterward. They slept most of the time, and were taken care of, their wounds healing slowly. Thorin's fever finally broke and he began to feel better after that. They were soon allowed to sit up, and to eat and drink as much as they wanted. In fact, everyone seemed to press food upon them to help them gain their strength back.

But Thorin was going mad, always hating to be laid up, and he was only happy when Oin pronounced that he was allowed to stand up and walk around a bit, if he promised to be careful. He still limped slightly from the wound in his thigh, but everything was healing surprisingly well, and though everything still pained him, it was not nearly as bad as before.

One day he was taking a walk—more like a limp—through the woods, glad to be alone for a few minutes at least until Dwalin or someone came and forced him to go back to camp and rest. He was getting very tired of everyone's mother-henning, and was glad for the respite.

He was just leaning up against a tree and filling his pipe for a smoke, when he heard a sound behind him. He jerked toward it, still jumpy after their capture, but saw only the hobbit standing there, making his way slowly over to Thorin.

Neither of them said anything for a long time. Thorin offered him his tobacco pouch and Bilbo silently filled his pipe, but before they lit up, he spoke, not looking at Thorin but at the tobacco he was stuffing into his pipe, "I think we need to talk."

For some reason, that simple phrase, that sounded so much like a demand to Thorin in his currently poor mental state, totally threw him over the edge. He grabbed the hobbit by his good shoulder and jerked him around to look at him. Bilbo winced, but didn't make a sound even when he looked into the dwarf's glaring countenance.

"Talk," Thorin stated blandly. "Yes, Master Baggins, we have much to talk about indeed. Would you like to start, or shall I?"

The growl in his voice put that old indignant look back onto Bilbo's face and the hobbit glared up at him. "You know something, Thorin, I was always taught that it was a noble thing to save someone's life. Something that would make someone grateful, but I've saved your high and mighty life twice now, and I've gotten nothing but snarls and anger from you for both. It's not very encouraging that."

"Do you want praise, halfling, is that it?" Thorin snarled, looming over the hobbit who stepped back involuntarily against the trunk of the tree. "Praise for saving my life? Is that why you did it? Shall I say thank you? Is that good enough for you? Hollow praise, when it means so much more. Shall I give you gold for it? Give you land and titles? Make your name known far and wide?"

"You know I don't want that," Bilbo snapped. "I just thought our friendship meant more than that. Friends don't treat each other like this, Thorin."

Thorin laughed humorlessly, shaking his head. He fumbled to light his pipe, but Bilbo snatched the match from him, his small hand tightening around the dwarf's wrist.

"For once in your bloody life, Thorin Oakenshield, tell me plain what is bothering you!" he said.

"You died!" Thorin shouted, throwing Bilbo's hand off, and sending him falling backwards as he did so. The dwarf swung around to slam his hands against the truck of the tree as he fought to control his emotions. He thudded his forehead against the tree, gritting his teeth as he felt his chest tightening with contained grief, his injured ribs protesting. He heard Bilbo trying to conceal his groans as he forced himself back to his feet.

"Thorin—" he tried, but the dwarf finally spun around, his hands forming fists at his side.

"You died, Bilbo, you _died!_ Do you not see that? Do you not understand?" he screamed, startling the hobbit so much that the small creature stood, pale and still as he listened to Thorin's words. "You died in my arms, Bilbo, there was blood everywhere. I thought…I thought I had lost you like Frerin, that I had failed _again_!" He slammed a fist against the tree and didn't even register the pain as his knuckles split and bled. "Do you know what you did to me? _Do you_? Can you even comprehend what it's like to lose a brother, and find someone who reminds you so much of him it hurts _and then almost lose him too?_" Thorin had grabbed Bilbo by the front of his shirt and shook him in his anger. The hobbit's hands, one bandaged heavily, wrapped around his forearms to steady himself.

"Thorin please," Bilbo tried, pain written across his features.

Thorin shook him again and he cried out, but the dwarf was too angry to realize. "And it wasn't just a close call. You actually died! _Your heart stopped beating! _I can't lose you, Bilbo, and if you insist on keeping up with these foolish ventures, I swear I will send you home!"

Bilbo gasped, scrabbling at Thorin's arms to get him to let go. "Thorin, please, I can't…"

Thorin looked down at him, realizing for the first time what he was doing. Horror washed over him and he let go of Bilbo who gasped and clasped his arms around his broken ribs and his wounded shoulder, doubling over. Thorin stepped back, afraid to do the hobbit any more harm, and wanting to stab himself for losing his mind to his anger and hurting him in the first place.

"Bilbo," he breathed, and sank to his knees, unable to keep his feet any longer. "Bilbo, oh, Mahal, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Thorin," Bilbo said, shaking his head, having regained his breath. "Just…" And then he groaned in exasperation and simply strode forward and sunk down next to Thorin and wrapped his arms around him.

"Thorin, I'm so sorry, for everything," Bilbo whispered to him and Thorin felt hot tears on his neck. "I'm so sorry for what I put you through, but I couldn't stand watching you take the punishment for me. And your brother wouldn't have taken it either. You've got to understand that loyalty, friendship—brotherhood—is something shared, Thorin. You can't just give, you have to learn to receive too, even if that means someone gives his life for you. Just take it as a gift," Bilbo choked on a sob and his hands clenched into Thorin's tunic. "Just take his sacrifice as a gift and say thank you."

Thorin listened to the hobbit's words, tears threatening to fall from his own eyes and he finally brought his arms up and wrapped them around Bilbo, pulling him close as he rested his forehead on the hobbit's shoulder. "You have no reason to apologize," he whispered against Bilbo's shirt. "I should never have yelled at you for that. It was wrong of me, selfish even. You're right, I should have just thanked you. So, here it is," he pulled back and pushed the hobbit to arm's length so he could look him in the eye. "Thank you, Bilbo Baggins, for saving my life. Twice."

"And thank you, Thorin Oakenshield," Bilbo replied with a small smile. "For saving my life. Only once so far, but I have a feeling it won't be the last time."

Thorin felt a small smile flick at the corners of his mouth. Bilbo grinned harder through his tears to encourage it. "Do I still get the gold and titles, perchance?" he asked teasingly.

Thorin really did smile and chuckle into the bargain this time. "That all depends on if you prove to be a good burglar, Master Baggins."

"I did get you out of the orc camp," Bilbo protested.

"And got us captured again."

"Details," Bilbo replied, pretending annoyance, but they both grinned and Thorin pulled him in for another embrace and this time they stayed like that for a long while.

* * *

_Balin came to find them_ worried at their long absence and hoping nothing bad had befallen them. But what he found brought a smile to his lips, as he saw them embracing like brothers and then sitting shoulder to shoulder against the trunk of a tree to share their pipes, chatting happily. Balin saw that they had reconciled whatever had been hanging between them, and that made him glad in his heart. He seemed to have been wrong, the physical healing might indeed take longer than the mental as he had expected. He had no problem with that.

He turned around to leave the two along for a while longer, figuring they might need someone to help them back to camp later, but for now, he knew they would be fine in their own company.

**Well, that's taken care of now :) Anyway, I promised that after this angst, I would write some fluff for everyone, so I thought it would be fun if you gave me requests for things you might like to read. Durin family fics or what have you. Anything goes as long as it's a one shot and fluff, I'm not taking angst requests. A little H/C is fine though. And no slash. I'm not going to promise I'll use everyone's ideas, as the muse is fickle, but I will try to do so, even if it takes me a while to get through everything :)**


	14. Chapter 14

**Well, this is the last chapter! Thank you so so much to everyone who read this and wrote such lovely reviews. That always makes writing all the more enjoyable. I really enjoyed writing this one myself. I've got a couple ideas for future stories, but I don't know when I'll actually get around to them. it all depends on the muse and how quickly the ideas come. I have an idea for a Thorin/OC romance pre destruction of Erebor but I don't really have a story line yet. In the meantime, I'll be working on some of the fluffy one shots I promised. Thanks to Sophia and Scarlet Pimpernel00 for their ideas, I'll be working on your stories soon! If anyone else has any fluffy or h/c one shots they would like me to write, let me know! **

Chapter Fourteen

Bilbo stood with a grunt and stretched carefully because of his ribs. They were healing, and the bones had repaired, but they still twinged when he raised his arms over his head. It had been nearly two weeks since they had been rescued from Azog now, and Bilbo was content with the fact that he had Thorin had reconciled their misunderstandings and were once again on the path to being good friends—indeed, it had gone so far as to where Bilbo mostly felt like an adopted brother, and Thorin seemed to treat him so.

He was looking for Thorin now, to see if he had eaten breakfast, though he didn't think it likely that he had. Thorin was still a little shaken up from the ordeal and his injuries, both physical and mental, and he had been taken to going off by himself a lot. Bilbo would never have admitted it to the dwarf, but it frightened him when he couldn't find Thorin. He too had repercussions from their captivity, and he feared that Thorin might be taken again, and he also had a simple need to be around the dwarf. He felt safer with him and sometimes just needed his companionable presence to remind him that everything was all right. He might have been able to hold onto his bravery when they were Azog's captives, but now that he didn't have to, he found it had worn on him more than he wished to admit. He was, after all, simply a hobbit, and not having gone through anything of the like before in his life, nor even imagining he ever would, he was still somewhat in a state of shock. He knew he would figure it out eventually, especially once they started moving again, but for now, he was very glad of the presence of his companions.

He finally found Thorin standing on an outcropping where the woods thinned, looking out at the early morning sun as it rose above the land and made everything look hopeful and beautiful. Bilbo just smiled, his arms crossing over his chest as he watched Thorin, standing with his hair stirred by the breeze, looking out at the landscape as a king who owned it all.

"There you go again," he said, coming up behind the dwarf. "You being all majestic with your…long hair and looking off into the distance."

Thorin turned around, a look that was somewhere between amused and annoyed on his face. "I don't do that."

Bilbo snorted but came to stand at his shoulder to enjoy the view. He reached for his pipe and lit up, smiling around the pipe stem and enjoying the quiet companionship of having Thorin at his side.

The dwarf turned to look at him. "We'll be leaving tomorrow, I've decided. If you think you're well enough to travel."

Bilbo shrugged. "I'm well enough. My back is healed, and my ribs don't bother me much when I walk." He looked up at the dwarf with a teasing smile. "I do find it rather funny that the most painful wound I received was from you trying to save my life. Even the wound in my shoulder is not that painful."

Thorin flinched visibly at the mention of it, and Bilbo immediately regretted using his broken ribs as a joke. He certainly didn't hold any grudges, but he knew Thorin still didn't quite forgive himself for the whole thing. He bumped his shoulder against Thorin's to tell him it was all right. Thorin let out a deep sigh.

"Bilbo, are you all right?" he asked.

"I just said I was," Bilbo told him, but knew he was talking about the other thing and not the wounds.

"Because I'm still not sure I am," Thorin replied quietly, and Bilbo turned to look at him.

"Thorin," he said. "I don't think either of us is going to be 'all right' for a while, but we'll get there, and it will be easier when we're back on the quest, and have little time to think of it. I—I am not completely fine either, not like that. It was…well, it was all a bit much, wasn't it? So much so, that I think the only reason I was really okay before is because it was so bizarre an occurrence for me that I hardly believed it was anything more than a horrible nightmare. But I think—I think we'll be okay. Don't you?"

Thorin met his eyes and after a long moment finally nodded.

"And Thorin," Bilbo added. "Next time one of us has to save the other's life, and I have no doubt it will happen again sometime, can we please just do it and never speak of it again? I think it would be better for everyone. And less embarrassing."

Thorin smiled then and nodded. "Very well, Master Baggins, I agree, that would probably be best, considering."

"That doesn't mean we cannot thank each other though," Bilbo added.

"No," Thorin agreed.

They stood in silence for a moment while Bilbo finished smoking his pipe and then he remembered why he had come in the first place. "Ah, anyway, I came to ask if you had had breakfast. It's done, or was when I left camp. I don't know if there will be any left by the time we get back."

Thorin chuckled. "Best be heading back then." They turned around and started back to camp.

"By the way, Bilbo, there is another matter that I have been meaning to discuss with you," he said.

"And what might that be?" Bilbo asked.

Thorin stopped to look at him. "Your horrible swordsmanship."

Bilbo was completely taken aback. "My—my what?" he asked indignantly.

"Yes, you have no skill, whatsoever, in fact it's amazing you hit anything at all and are not torn to ribbons!" Thorin said, trying to fight the smile that was pulling at his lips at the look Bilbo's face. "What is your plan, swing your sword around and hope you hit something? No, I cannot have that. Not only is it an embarrassment, but you could injure a comrade with your wild flailing."

"Well, I—I'll have you know, master dwarf, that I was not trained in swordplay like some people. It's not a thing hobbits typically go to school for!" Bilbo exclaimed, really getting angry now.

Thorin finally couldn't help the grin that broke over his face. "Exactly, which is why I'm going to educate you now, whether you like it or not. I can't have such an embarrassment in my company, and if you end up having to fight a dragon—"

"A dragon!" Bilbo said. "No one said I had to _fight _the dragon, just…"

"Oh, you never know what can happen around dragons," Thorin said. "But rest assured," he turned serious again and swung the boiling hobbit around to meet his eyes. "I will be there if you do, to save your life, if I need to."

Bilbo's face softened and he clasped a hand over the one Thorin had on his shoulder. "And I will be there for you, to save your life, as usual."

"That is if you don't end it with your own sword swinging first," Thorin added and strode off back to camp, chuckling as Bilbo tore after him indignantly, insulting him. Their words echoed around the forest and startled several birds, but the two were content in their arguing, anticipating the road ahead and that fact that, hopefully, the worst was behind them.

The End

* * *

**Thanks again for reading to the end! And don't forget to give me one shot ideas if you have any! :-)**


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